Love in a Fortnight
by alrightginger
Summary: In the two weeks Harriet must spend at the Dursley's the summer before her sixth year, George Weasley shows up posing as both her boyfriend and personal guard. Fem! Harry
1. Day 1

**A/N: This was originally planned to be a oneshot for Glory of Love but it sort of turned into it's own thing. So this stands all on it's own!**

 **Please don't forget to review.**

 **I have no chill when it comes to this pairing.**

 **Love in a Fortnight**

 **or**

 **You Sit There in Your Heartache**

 **Day One:**

Harriet Potter was woken by a harsh rapping at her bedroom door. She cracked one eye open and was disappointed to find she was still at her aunt and uncle's house in Surrey and not back at Hogwarts like she had been dreaming about.

"Up girl!" came her aunt's grating voice from the otherside of the door.

Harriet groaned and stood up reluctantly. She had hardly been able to sleep at all after the events that led to her godfather's death, and her head throbbed as she stood.

"Coming, coming."

She opened the door and was met with her Aunt Petunia's snobbish glare. Her lips were pierced together and her hands were placed on her hips.

"Yes?" asked Harry crossing her arms and leaning into the doorway, knowing her casual stance would further piss her aunt off. "How can I help you this morning?"

"Are you planning on sleeping the whole summer away?"

"It's only 8:30 in the morning," cried Harriet looking back at the clock that hung in her room.

"The Welborns are going on holiday," her aunt said ignoring her. "I told them you would check in on their house once a day-"

"Why can't Dudley do it?"

"-and clean their pool out for them while you are there."

"Really?"

"They said they would leave money for you on the kitchen counter," her aunt said looking her in the eye. "They're going to be gone for two weeks. If you _steal_ anything they will know and I will not hesitate to tell them to call the police if that happens."

"What on earth do you think I'm going to take from them?"

Aunt Petunia didn't answer. Instead she turned on her heel and marched down the stairs. Harry slumped against the doorway, her head slightly thumping against the wood. She glanced over at Hedwig who had her head underneath her wing and appeared dead to the world.

"Well," she said to the bird though she was certain Hedwig couldn't hear her, "I suppose it's not all bad. It will get me out of the house once a day at least. Who knows, maybe I'll actually learn how to swim now."

She was met with only silence and heaved a sigh. Harry felt terribly alone and she had for quite some time now.

* * *

Harry had been having a hard time dealing with the passing of Sirius. In the days that followed his death, she felt horribly secluded from the world and that did nothing to help her slump. Remus had not been corresponding with her and Harry wondered if he slightly blamed her for the death of his old friend which made her feel infinitely worse. She couldn't fault him if he did happen to think that. _She_ certainly blamed herself for her godfather's death. She was bothered by the fact that he didn't have a proper burial, bothered too by the knowledge she would never have another letter from him, and even more so that she would never see his face again.

Sirius, for all purposes, had been a father figure towards her and in many ways her first love because of that. And so she was having a particularly difficult time moving on from his death. He had held many promises for her of a home, of family and she couldn't help but feel like all of that was gone now. Nights were hard because if she slept she dreamt of him slipping beyond the veil. The daytime was worse because she couldn't figure out how to function some days.

What were you supposed to do when half of your heart had also disappeared beyond the veil?

Harry wasn't sure just yet but hoped the summer would somehow help her.

* * *

The Welborn's lived down the street from the Dursleys. They had always been a kind, elderly couple who often paid Harriet compliments on how pretty they thought she was when they saw her. Occasionally they would also sneak her some sort of sweet treat and Harry had to wonder how much they suspected about her living arrangement with her aunt and uncle.

The structure of their house looked like everyone else's in the subdivision but Harry thought the way they decorated it made it more friendly looking to the outside eye. They had dozens of garden gnomes and pink flamingos that surround the front garden. Petunia had thought they were gaudy but Harry had always wanted to play with the little gnomes as a child and thought the arrangement of their front yard was marvelous.

They were the only house in the neighborhood that had a pool, however, which put them on Aunt Petunia's radar. Petunia was one who selected her acquaintances based on what they had to offer her and a pool was something her aunt could not refuse especially during hot summer days.

It was during one of these hot summer days that Harriet walked to the Welborn's pool, her summer dress sashaying around her knees with each step. Their white picket fence greeted her as she stepped through it to search for the net. The pool didn't have much to clean out truthfully aside from a few stray leaves and bugs and Harry found herself staring into the waters clutching onto the net tightly. She suddenly felt the inexplicable desire to see what it felt like to sink to the bottom of the water. She knew it was foolish since she wasn't a great swimmer and she didn't have any actual swimming attire with her but she still found herself crouching down and sitting at the edge. She dipped one foot in first, the water chilly against her hot skin. Feeling brave she dropped the other foot in and splashed.

"All I would have to do is push myself back up," she said trying to convince herself of her stupidity. "No big deal, right?"

She didn't receive an answer from herself and before she could overthink things she plunged herself in, allowing herself to be immersed in the cold water. She sunk slowly towards the bottom and watched as the bubbles that had escaped her mouth floated upwards. She could see the sun shining down, her dress flowed around her, and then she hit the bottom. For the first time since she had come back to Privet Drive, Harry felt weightless and it was a feeling she wanted to hold onto. It was silent but she found she didn't mind this particular silence underneath the water. Not thinking straight, she released a mad sort of chuckle and more bubbles slipped out making their way upwards and popping. She had readied her legs from underneath her to push up to the surface when she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms grab her from behind. She was being pulled upward by someone and didn't have enough leverage in the water to lash out at whoever had a hold on her. Thoughts of Death Eaters or even Dudley and his gang of idiots flashed through her head and when she finally broke to the surface she was sputtering from taking in water in attempts to free herself from whomever still had a hold on her. She was dragged and thrown onto the concrete and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust from the burning of the chlorine before she could make out who the hell had grabbed her.

" _George?"_

"What the _bloody hell_ were you doing?" he said angrily. "I know you just lost Sirius, but I didn't think you'd try to off yourself because of it!"

"I _wasn't_ trying to _off myself,"_ she spat back. "I just wanted to see what it felt like to sink to the bottom."

Harry realized how stupid she sounded as soon as the words left her mouth and judging by the way George was looking at her his opinion wasn't much higher of her idea.

"What in the hell-"

"What are you doing here anyway," she said shortly turning from him and squeezing some water out of hair as she did so. "Joined the _Order_ have you?"

"Yes," he said and Harry missed the way his eyes darted over her soaked body. "But I'm not here to keep tabs on you."

"No?"

"No, I just wanted -to see how you were...holding up. I guess."

Harry turned to look at him over her shoulder. He was rubbing his neck with his hand and looking bashful. Harry had never seen George look shy in all the years she had known him.

"You came to see me?"

"You sound surprised."

"You've never just stopped by to see me. Forgive me if I'm a bit suspicious."

"We're friends aren't we?"

"Yes," said Harry flipping her hair over her head and shaking it out. "I suppose we are. Now in the name of friendship do you mind casting a drying spell on me? This dress is much too heavy now."

"Oh," he said and Harry could tell by his tone that he was embarrassed to not have thought of it first. "Sure, come here."

Harry stepped closer to him and thought it peculiar the way he swallowed before he drew his wand out. But in an instant the nervousness was gone from his eyes and replaced with the same mischievous air that Harry was accustomed to. He grabbed her by the waist, smirking and running his wand over her. Harry felt the dampness leave her and her skin heat up but she was certain it wasn't from the summer sun.

"Better?" he asked with his hand still grasping her hip.

"Much."

* * *

Harriet had flat out refused him when George insisted on accompanying her back to the Dursley's, but George was persistent if not frustratingly so. He wanted to see Dudley, still not over his obsession of messing with the boy even after he had gotten in a great deal of trouble along with Fred over pranking him with sweets two summers ago. Even though the whole thing had been a laugh at the time, Harry didn't like the thought of not having Mr. Weasley around should things get too out of control to sort them out. More than anything though she also afraid that the Dursley's would make an humiliating comment towards her in front of him. And, well, she had already successfully mortified herself with the whole "pool sinking" incident.

"Come on, Potter. Ten minutes. That's all I'm asking for here," he had asked as they walked back towards the Dursley's. Harry slowly, him skipping around her.

" _No."_

"Harry-"

"Absolutely not."

"Darling-"

"Oh my god," said Harry laughing uncomfortably and giving him a shove. "Don't start with that."

"Harriet Potter," he said grabbing her hand and kneeling in front of her causing her to stop. "Please do me the honor of inviting me into your house. Just for one evening."

Harry blushed and covered her face. A car driving by honked and Harry knew they were under the wrong impression which set her cheeks on fire even more.

"You're impossible!"

"I came to spend the day with you!"

"Ugh," she groaned throwing her head back. " _Fine!_ But I'm warning you now, they're going to be right pissy over the whole thing."

"Nothing I can't handle," he said standing and bent down to kiss her on the tip of the nose. "You're hair looks absolutely amazing by the way. The pool water seems to have made it curlier."

"What has gotten into you?"

"Just a bit of mischief."

Harry rolled her eyes and marched forward. They arrived back at No. 4 much too soon for Harry's liking. The walk over to the Welborn's had seemed to take much longer but she didn't have a pest following her over that way. She paused with her hand on the doorknob and could feel George bouncing behind her.

"Will you stop," she said elbowing him hard in the gut causing him to grunt out in pain. "You're going to have to act at least a bit civilized if you truly want to keep me company."

"Fucking hell," he said rubbing his stomach. "Alright. You're quite violent, you know that?"

Harry merely smirked at him before opening the door and leading him in.

 _This ought to be interesting,_ she thought feeling her pulse race.

"Aunt Petunia," she called out unsure of where the woman was hiding. "I've brought a guest."

There was a _crash_ and what sounded like some plates smashing onto the floor.

"Ah, she's in the kitchen then," said George from behind her and hooking an arm around her waist. "Let's go see her then."

"Get off of me."

"I'm using you as a human shield."

Harry was just about to resort to more _violence_ when Petunia came storming in their line of vision. Her eyes darted between the two of them wildly and Harry saw the way they lingered on her waist which still had George's arm around it.

"What do you _mean_ you brought a _guest?"_ she asked through clenched teeth.

"I-um- that is to say-"

"Petunia!"

There was a loud stomping as though a herd of elephants were descending from down the stairs and Harry and George turned to see that Vernon and Dudley had came down to see what all the noise was about.

"What's going on down here," said Vernon his face turning an ugly purple color. "Girl what have you done?"

"Harry apparently has brought her _boyfriend_ over to visit without so much as asking us first," said Petunia haughty.

Harry turned scarlett. They had clearly gotten the wrong impression and how could they not? With George's arm _still_ around her waist and what not.

"Harry's got a boyfriend?" Dudley asked coming down the stairs to get a better look.

"No, absolutely not!" Vernon roared. "We will not have more of _your kind_ living off our hospitality."

"Much good their hospitality has done you, eh?" teased George right in her ear as he ran a hand up her ribs, tickling her in the process. "You're all bone."

" _Stop it,"_ she hissed squirming against him. "You're giving them the wrong idea."

"How about we play a prank love," he said and Harry could see the mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"No, _no funny business!"_

"What are you whispering to him about, girl!"

"Harry's got a boyfriend?" Dudley asked again standing in front of the two of them now. His eyes widened as he took in George's appearance and Harry could only guess he was having horrible flashbacks of his tongue expanding.

"George Weasley," said George pulling Harry closer towards him and extending his hand towards Dudley. "Harry's boyfriend and personal guard for the rest of the summer. I've been placed with the orders of keeping her safe while she's here so we should all be spending _a lot_ of time together."


	2. Day 1 & Day 2

**A/N: There's a lot of set up in this chapter so it got rather long.**

 **George is a lot more of his cocky, mischievous self in this story verses After Midnight. But of course he hasn't lost his brother in this one.**

 **Harriet will be slightly more out of character than my After Midnight Harriet. That is if you consider a Harry who likes to read out of character.**

 **Please don't forget to review!**

 **Chapter Two**

 **or**

 **She's Just Another Girl**

 **Day One cont.:**

To say that the Dursleys were _not_ happy with the prospect of having someone stay in their house who (as they had not so lovingly put it) suffered from the same sort of freakish condition that their niece did would be an understatement. Uncle Vernon had turned an unflattering shade of red as he sputtered to find the words to why he wouldn't allow such things. Aunt Petunia for once in her life had seemed to be unable to say anything. And Dudley looked horrified at the possibility of having to share a living space with someone who had expanded his tongue for tormenting Harry.

But George was clever and after informing them that if they sent him away the ministry would want to know _why_ they seemed to have no choice. None of the Dursley's, however, could match Harriet's discomfort with the situation.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" she demanded while pacing around in her room. "Do you have any sort of clue what you've signed up for? What you've signed _me_ up for?"

As soon as the Dursleys had reluctantly conceded, Harry had grabbed George by the hand and drug him up the stairs to her bedroom. He had currently made himself at home on her bed and was sprawled out with his hands resting under his head. He was looking at her with an amused expression that Harry wanted to curse off of his face if only she were of age.

"Relax Harry. It's just a few weeks. Besides, you can't tell me you wouldn't mind some company while you're stuck in this place."

The thing was Harry really did want some sort of connection to her own world and George truly was one of her good friends. But what she couldn't tell him was she didn't want anyone to ever know how poorly she was treated by her aunt and uncle. Sure she had shared certain stories and George had even seen the bars on her window but no one had known the full truth. To George, this was all just a game. Some fun prank to pull over on some helpless muggles. But to Harry, this was a part of herself that she didn't ever want anyone to find.

"You have no clue what you've gotten yourself into. Those people are miserable."

"And you want to be just as miserable the whole time you're here?"

" _No-"_

"Then let me stay with you," he said getting up from the bed and taking her hands in his to stop her pacing. "I promise it will be the best summer you've ever had here."

Harry was on the very edge of relenting. Biting her lip and peering anywhere but George's face as she thought of the possibilities.

"You told them we were dating. They're never going to buy that."

"And why not?"

"Because- because...we just don't _know_ each other that way."

"You mean sexually speaking?"

"Merlin, so crude, but yes. And also- just in general. Boyfriends and girlfriends just know things about each other."

"Well if you'd like to get to know me _sexually_ all you'd have to do is ask-"

"I will kick you out right now."

George cackled, throwing his head back as he did so, and never once letting go of her hands.

"I'm only joking. And I know lots about you."

"Like what?"

"Like your favorite sweet is treacle tart, you scrunch your nose when you're holding a sarcastic comment back, you bite your lip when you're nervous like you're doing now-"

"Okay, okay. So you know a surprising amount about me. There's still a lot of plot holes here you aren't even thinking of."

"Like what?"

"Like your parents! Won't they wonder where you are if you're staying with me during the summer? Don't they wonder where you are now?"

"Fred and I moved out," said George grinning at Harry as though she had missed some big joke.

" _What?_ Where are you living now?"

" _That,"_ he said flicking her nose, "is a surprise."

"How is it a surprise?"

"I just want to show it to you in person. You'll know why when you see it."

"This is going to be a _disaster,"_ said Harry with a mad laugh.

"It _won't be._ Look you're just reeling from everything. I'm going to go back to my place and get some stuff. I'll come back in the morning so be ready. That's when we put this thing into action."

"Wait you're _leaving-"_

"Missing me already?" he teased, smirking. "I'll be back tomorrow. I just need to get some things in order with Fred."

"What sort of things-"

"It's a _surprise_ , Potter. Now, give me a goodnight kiss before I go."

"What," cried Harry shoving him. "No!"

"But I'm your boyfriend!"

"You're my _fake_ boyfriend. _Fake_ being the operative word here."

"Fair enough I guess," he said quirking an eyebrow as he watched her back away from him.

"I'm just going to - um- take a shower and get this chlorine out of my hair," she said walking backwards until her back hit the door. "You can just go ahead and apparate out of here - _now_ preferably. And I'll...um, see you tomorrow."

He smirked and was gone with a _crack._ Harry had turned to dart out of the door, sure she was in the clear now, when there was another _crack_ and she found herself slammed into the wall of the hallway by a pair of strong hands gripping her waist and a pair of lips crashed onto hers.

" _George!"_

But with a chuckle and another _crack_ he was gone and Harriet was left breathless.

* * *

 **Day Two:**

Harry woke up early the next morning, got dressed, and padded downstairs to wait on George. He had said that he would be back today but she didn't know when or _how_ he was coming back. She half expected him to apparate in at any moment and steal another kiss.

She pressed her fingers to her lips thinking of last night. He had taken a kiss from her as a joke, but to Harry kisses _weren't_ jokes. She had only kissed Dean Thomas before and that's because she really wanted to but strangely after that he started getting hexed and must have decided that Harry wasn't really worth it. He started dating Ginny after that and though Harry told them that she was fine it really did sting a little.

Harry felt partly stupid for having to fake having a boyfriend to the Dursleys. Sure, she hadn't had much luck with boys in the past but did she really have to resort to having a fake boyfriend? She was half tempted to owl George and call the whole thing off though she was certain he would just burn the letter and say he never got it.

"If you're going to be sitting around you might as well start breakfast," snapped her aunt strutting into the room. "And put your hair up in a braid. It looks awful that way."

Harry rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She had gotten quite good at braiding because her aunt hated her hair so much and didn't like to see it down when Harriet was home. She assumed that was because it had her mother's waves. She had secured it into a milkmaid braid and pulled out the bacon when the phone rang. She barely registered that her aunt had answered the phone when suddenly she was in front of her thrusting the phone at Harriet.

"It's for _you,"_ she hissed.

"Me?" questioned Harry pointing to herself. "Hello?"

"Hey," said George through the other line. "Pretend I just said something flattering and now you're all flustered."

Harry didn't have to act flustered.

"How are you calling me?"

"Oh, we have a phone here."

" _Where?"_

"Patience, Potter."

Harry could hear the grin in his voice and rolled her eyes.

"Okay weirdo. When are you coming back here?"

"Miss me?"

"Yes, it gets worse with each passing moment."

"Really? I would have already been by if I knew."

"It's called sarcasm!"

"You wound me..hey! Cut it out- _oof!"_ Harry could hear a scuffle from George's side and it sounded as though he were battling someone for the phone.

"Harriet Potter," Fred's smug tone came through the line and Harry could hear George struggling to get the phone back along with a series of expletives.

"Hey Fred," she said giggling.

"You know if you needed a fake boyfriend for the summer I was available. Still _am_ you know."

"Hmm, what do you have to offer me?"

"A heart full of love, my darling. Also a few dungbombs for those relatives of yours."

Harry burst out laughing causing her aunt to clear her throat from behind her. Harry peaked over her shoulder at Petunia who was scowling at her, lips pierced together so tightly Harry was surprised they didn't permanently stick.

"Hark, the muggles grow disgruntled with me."

"Of course. Here's George. You let me know if I can be of any assistance."

"We don't need your help!" Harry heard George yell and he sounded far away, as though the phone was being held away from him. "We don't need his help," he said closer this time.

"I want Fred to be my boyfriend."

"No you don't. He's an arse. The only thing he has going for him are his looks-"

"You're twins!"

"Exactly, so I have good looks _and_ the brains to pull this off."

"I'm still not entirely sure what the purpose behind all this is honestly, other for you to spend-"

"Be ready to go in thirty minutes, Harry!"

"Go where?"

But Harry didn't receive an answer, for George had hung up before he could give one. Perplexed and a bit put off, Harry returned to making the breakfast while her aunt watched on in the background. Harry could feel the snide comments forming inside her mind, but her aunt made no noise other than the occasional huff.

"George had to go back home and fetch his stuff," she offered instead to her aunt. "He said he should be back in thirty minutes. Though I think we may be going out…"

Her aunt said nothing and Harriet trailed off lamely.

Thirty minutes came and went and Harriet was left to wonder if perhaps the joke was on _her_ when there was a loud, prolonged honking from outside.

"What on earth is going on?" demanded Aunt Petunia dropping her fork in her plate and walking over to the window.

Harry followed and the pair peaked through the blinds peering into the street. George Weasley was standing outside leaning against a very nice looking car, his hand _still_ on the car horn as he faced the house grinning.

"Is he going to be doing this _everyday?"_ her aunt asked through her shock.

"Surely not," said Harry grinning despite herself.

She darted towards the door, throwing on a pair of old flip flops as she did so.

"I don't know when I'll be back!" she cried and slammed the door behind her before her aunt could retort.

She ran to him, launching herself into his arms and he caught her as though he had been expecting it.

"Hello there," he said clearly amused. "Is this how we greet each other now?"

"It is when I'm your fake girlfriend and my aunt is watching from the window," she said right into his ear.

"Best give me a kiss then. For the audience."

"No, not a chance," she said releasing him slightly but still encircling his neck with her arms. "You've already _stolen_ one kiss from me. I've got my guard up now. You won't be getting another."

"We shall see. Now get in the car and smile and wave at the front window while I drive like mad. I can see your aunt still watching."

* * *

"Where are we going anyway?" asked Harry after they had been driving for a couple minutes. "And where did you get this car?"

The car was much nicer than the Ford Anglia and Harry had to keep reminding herself that George had in fact driven before (at least once to break her out of the Dursleys several summers ago), but she couldn't help but clutching her door handle incase the need arose for her to tuck and roll out of the car.

"You'll see when we get there," he said sliding a pair of sunglasses on and giving Harry a look that made her mouth go dry. "And I nicked it."

" _What?"_

He laughed and Harry wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if he _had_ stolen it.

"You've got to learn to trust me, Potter."

"How? You've tricked your way into staying with me this summer _and_ being my boyfriend. Plus you're being so secretive all of a sudden."

"Is the thought of dating me that repulsive?"

"It's not that. It's just- I haven't _had_ a lot of experience in the dating department. I've never been someone's girlfriend. I think we need to go over a background story and some rule so we don't screw this up."

"Sounds reasonable," he said with a half smile.

"So when and how exactly did we start dating? I've been thinking about it and I honestly can't come up with something."

"That's because you're shite at making up lies," he said poking her in the side and causing her to squeak. "We started dating at the end of last year. I liked you for a long time, but you weren't ready. And then when I dropped out of school-"

"We should definitely mention that part. They'll just love that."

"-you realized that you missed me and the way I made you laugh-"

"At your own expense, you mean."

"-you started writing me letters, we corresponded that way for a bit-"

"So romantic."

"-I asked you out, we had our first date, and the rest was history."

"You came up with that rather fast," said Harry raising her eyebrows at him. "Where was our first date at though? _Please_ don't say Madam Puddifoot's."

"As if I'd ever take you there," said George snorting. "Why don't you take a look out your window though?"

Confused, Harry looked out the window and was startled to see that they were pulling into the parking lot of the zoo in Surrey where Harry had gone years before for Dudley's birthday.

"The zoo?" she said excitedly. "You remembered?"

"That story about you setting the snake loose on your cousin is one of my favorites. I pray to Merlin they ask where our first date was so I can see the look on their faces when you tell them t _he zoo."_

* * *

The zoo seemed smaller than Harry remembered it, although she was several years younger the last time she came. Nonetheless, she was thrilled for a day out away from the Dursleys. She was staring at the gorilla that still reminded her of her cousin when she felt a nudge at her side.

"Here you go," said George handing her a cup of ice cream.

"Thank you," she said genuinely, her tone causing George to smile a real smile at her. Harry was so used to seeing him with his arrogant smirks and grins that she was caught off guard by how nice his _real_ smile was. "Why don't you do that more often?"

"Do what?" he asked blinking.

"Smile at me... _really_ smile. Not smirking like you've pulled one over on me."

"I've never pranked you."

That was true, Harry thought. For all purposes, George had truly never played a prank on her the way that him and Fred pranked other students. Sure sometimes they made jokes at her expense but she supposed that was different.

"Nevermind," said Harry shaking her head, suddenly feeling sad and having no clue as to why. "Why don't we go check out the reptile house?"

"Alright," he said and Harry thought he sounded somber.

They walked in companionable silence and Harry thought that perhaps if this were a _real_ first date, it wouldn't have been a bad one. George and her were past the awkward "getting to know you" stages that most real couples would go through. He knew to get her strawberry ice cream for example and the mere fact that he remembered that this is where she had one of her few childhood memories spoke for itself. But it wasn't a real date, she reminded herself. George was just having one over on the muggles and perhaps _that_ was what was upsetting her. She had never been on a real date and now most of her first experiences would be all for a joke. Feeling suddenly sick, she stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" asked George turning back to face her.

"I think we need to set up some rules," she said quickly. "Like I said before-"

"Rules?"

"I just- I've never dated anyone. _Anyone._ And I know you're only doing this to prank my family, but I want to make sure that I have some...stuff to do with an _actual_ boyfriend. Some 'firsts.'"

"Okay," said George and Harry found his expression unreadable. "We can do that if it's that important to you."

"It is," said Harry letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"You've never had a boyfriend?"

"I've never been on a _date."_

"Doesn't this count?"

"This isn't _real,_ George," she said laughing slightly. "Anyway, back to the task at hand…"

"Right, what sort of rules did you want to put into place?"

"Number one," said Harry taking a bite of her ice cream, "no more stealing kisses. In fact, no public displays of affection that aren't absolutely necessary."

"What if you _want_ me to kiss you?"

"If for some reason I want you to ram me into another wall and snog me, I will let you know. Rule number _two,"_ said Harry over his laughter, "all pranks that you play upon my family must be strictly _muggle."_

" _What,_ " he cried, horrified. "You can't do that!"

"Try me," she said looking him definitely in the eyes.

"How do you even _prank_ without magic?"

"One time I put Hermione's prefect badge in jello and she had to eat it out," said Harry grinning. "Oh! And another time I added a book a day for a week into her bag until she was used to the weight and then when potions was ending I took them all out and she picked it up with such force that she knocked her cauldron over."

George laughed so hard he choked on a bit of his ice cream causing Harry to thump him on the back.

"Merlin," he said through his laughter. "Did you _really?"_

"Yes and thankfully Hermione is a good sport. Although, she was rather cross with me for a week after the potions incident."

"Any other rules you would have me abide by?"

"The last and most important rule is simply this," said Harriet looking him in the eye. "Do _not_ fall in love with me, George Weasley. It will be the worst thing you could ever do."

* * *

Much later, Harriet and George could be found once more in her bedroom having yet another argument. They had returned to Private Drive after spending the entire day out to find the Dursleys already hauled up in their respective rooms. Likely, Harriet thought, to avoid their magic as though it were the plague.

Harry had decided to take their lead, tired from the day's events when George trailed after her. It wasn't until they were both in her bedroom that she had asked him what on earth he thought he was doing.

"Going to bed," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm tired!"

"You're not going to bed _here,"_ she hissed. "You can go downstairs and sleep on the couch."

"Are you mad? I'm not allowed to use magic on them and you want me exposed to the elements down there?"

"Fine," she huffed. "Sleep on the floor in here then."

"I have a bad back!"

"Well, you're not sleeping in the bed with me!"

"Come on, Harriet! We can make it rule four... 'George Weasley can sleep in the bed with Harriet so long as he does not touch her and a pillow remain between them at all times.'"

Tired and slightly delirious, Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Merlin, George Weasley was turning out to be a giant headache for her this summer.

"Alright, but you so much as touch me without my consent and I promise you I won't need magic to kick your arse."

George's only response was flopping himself unceremoniously on her bed and patting the side next to him causing Harry to roll her eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

"I want to read before bed, if you don't mind," said Harry crouching under her bed and drawing out a floral covered box.

"You read?"

"I'm no Hermione," she said fishing out a book and crawling into the bed next to him. "You won't find me harboring a obsession for _Hogwarts: A History_ but I do enjoy muggle fiction occasionally."

"I've never seen you reading that at Hogwarts," said George grabbing the book from her to look at it. " _Pride and Prejudice."_

"Give that back!" cried Harry snatching it back as though it were something most precious to her. "I don't _need_ them at Hogwarts. I need them here when I have no other sort of connection to her."

"Who?"

"My mother," said Harry opening the book and showing George the scribbled name of _Lily Evans_ inside the cover. "They must have belonged to her. They're all Austen novels. I found them in the attic when my aunt had me putting some stuff away. I suppose she must have kept them though I'm not sure why. She never speaks of my mother, and then when she does it's never anything kindly."

"You like this book then? It looks as though it's been read to death."

"I do. Do you remember when you and Fred helped me to talk to Sirius last year?" she asked and George nodded. "I needed to talk to him after finding out...how _arrogant,_ I guess would be the world, my father was. My mother seemed to hate him, but Sirius told me I just didn't understand in that moment. This book though kind of helped me to understand _why_ they possibly ended up together. I wondered if maybe my mother read it and had the realization herself."

George was silent for a moment and Harriet took that time to flip through that pages as her mother must have once done. She certainly didn't enjoy reading in the same way that Hermione did but there was just something about these books that called to her. Perhaps it was that they had once belonged to her mother. Perhaps it was the stories within those pages and how all of them centered around heroines like herself.

"Will you read it to me?" asked George startling Harry from her thoughts.

Harry regarded George for a moment, uncertain of whether or not he was joking but when he offered her a second real smile that day she opened the book, cleared her throat, and began to read.

" _It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…"_

 **On the next chapter- Dudley invites Harriet and George to a party that his friends are throwing.**


	3. Day 3

**A/N: Just Another Girl and When You Were Young by The Killers are two of my main inspirations for this fic, if you'd like some background music.**

 **Seriously, guys. I can't thank you enough for taking an interest in my Harriet stories. I know a fem! Harry isn't for everyone. This story is going to span all fourteen days and then end when Harry sees WWW for the first time. Just a fair warning, there's going to be a lot of fake snogging, turned real snogging and more smut in this story than in AM.**

 **Please, please don't forget to review!**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Or**

 **Waiting on Some Beautiful Boy**

 **Day Three:**

The next morning Harry was awoken by a rapping at her window. Groaning slightly, she turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head in attempts of ignoring the sound. However, there was a lower growl that joined her, startling Harry out of her sleepy state. There was a boy in her bed and she nearly shrieked until she saw the untidy red mass of hair and remembered it was only George. He apparently had kept to his word for a pillow still remained between them and he was facing away from her.

" _Ugh,_ make it _stop,"_ grumbled George, his voice thick with sleep as the tapping grew more frantic.

"Alright, alright."

Rolling her eyes, Harry jumped gingerly out of her bed to find that Pig was fluttering outside her window. She cracked the window and barely had enough time to duck before the little owl was clumsily knocking into everything in its path.

"Settle down you git!" cried Harry, throwing a book at the owl and missing.

"Pig, you idiot! Come down here," George was fully awake now and with a wave of his wand he managed to stun the little bird and it fell on Harry's bed with a soft _thud._

"Poor thing," said Harry untying the letter from Pig's leg. "Did you really have to stun him?"

"You threw a _book_ at him! It probably would have killed him if you didn't miss."

"Don't be dramatic," snorted Harry, taking a seat next to George on the bed. "Nice hair by the way."

"Speak for yourself, Potter," he said as he reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering slightly. Harry felt her breath hitch in her throat at the gesture and for a moment the two of them simply stared at one another.

"Um- my letter," said Harry breaking the eye contact and finding her voice. "Looks like Ron's written me."

"Right."

Harry hastily opened the letter and tried to focus on Ron's messy handwriting instead of her thumping heart.

 _Harry,_

 _I hope you're doing alright after everything. I hope the muggles are laying off of you some. Hopefully we'll be able to get you back to the Burrow soon enough._

 _Things are quiet here. Fred and George have moved out, and I never thought I'd say this - but I miss hearing the explosions coming from their room. Ginny's here of course, but it's not the same._

 _Looking forward to you and Hermione coming._

 _Currently dying of boredom,_

 _Ron_

"I think Ron actually misses you and Fred," said Harry smirking and handing the letter over to George. "See for yourself."

George's eyes quickly darted over the letter before he let out a snort.

"Of course he does. You would too if you were stuck there alone with mum."

"Alas, I haven't had enough time to miss you," said Harry, snatching the letter back. "You know what he needs?"

"Trousers that don't show his ankles?"

" _No,"_ said Harry. "Well, maybe. But I was going to say a girlfriend."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"Ron's dateable!"

"Then why haven't you dated him?"

"Because he's like my brother! And furthermore we're too much alike to be a good match."

"You're nothing like Ron. You're much more appealing," he said waggling his eyebrows and dodging the elbow Harriet thrusted at him. "Anyway, if you're looking for a _good match_ I already know the person."

"Who?"

"Hermione."

" _Hermione,"_ said Harry laughing slightly. "Absolutely not. They fight constantly."

"That's exactly why I think they'd be a good match."

"Because they _fight?"_

"Because they have passion."

"They've gone _weeks_ without talking to one another before," said Harry incredulously.

"Imagine how much quicker they would be able to _make up_ if they were dating," suggested George with a smirk.

"You're mad! This conversation is over," said Harry though she was smiling. "Come on now, breakfast time."

"Sounds good," said George jumping up. "What's your aunt making?"

" _I_ make the breakfast, actually," said Harry braiding her hair quickly and not meeting George's eye.

"You make the breakfast? And why are you braiding your hair again? I've never seen you with a braid at school."

"I cook the breakfast, sometimes the lunch, and...sometimes the dinner. And Aunt Petunia doesn't like my hair down. She makes me wear it in a braid most summers."

" _What-"_

But Harry had already walked out the door and was making her way downstairs before he could get the rest of the question out. _This_ was one of the reasons she didn't want him to stay with her this summer; the constant questioning. She didn't want George - or _anyone_ for that matter- to know how she lived during the summers. She never talked about her life with her aunt and uncle to Ron and Hermione for good reason. And now George was intertwining himself into the most personal part of her and he was far too clever to accept a lie.

Her aunt was already in the kitchen when Harriet came downstairs. She was drumming her nails on the kitchen counter and she had her mouth open as if to scold her right away before glancing over Harriet and pausing for a moment.

"Oh," said Petunia and Harry thought she sounded slightly dissatisfied,"you've already braided your hair."

"Looks beautiful, doesn't it?" George had somehow managed to sneak up on her, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Looks just as gorgeous down."

 _Don't smack him,_ Harry told herself. _Good girlfriends don't smack their boyfriends._

"Yep," said Harriet, twisting herself out of his arms and stomping towards the pantry. "Pancakes this morning?"

"Yes," said Petunia, her eyes locked on George. "And bacon. Dudley wants bacon this morning."

"Of course."

"Hmm," hummed George meeting Petunia's gaze like a challenge. "Let me help you with this, Harry."

"Oh no," said Harry quickly, nearly smacking her head against the counter as she dug out a frying pan. "I can handle it."

"Nonsense, _darling._ I don't mind helping one bit."

"It's really not necessary, _sweetheart."_

"I think it absolutely is, _sugar."_

"I swear to Merlin it's not, _dear."_

Harriet was thrusting her frying pan towards George like a weapon and he seemed to be getting off on their argument which was fueling her anger. Before she could chuck the frying pan at him the sound of a throat clearing caused her to start.

"I expect breakfast ready in thirty minutes," snapped Petunia. "If there's any sign of something _funny_ with it-"

"There won't be," said Harry hurriedly.

"If there _is,_ you _know_ what will happen."

Petunia strutted out of the kitchen and Harry heard the telly a second later and heaved a sigh. Yesterday had been a relatively fun but they had been outside of the house for a majority of the day. There was no way to buffer interactions between the Dursleys and George totally and her aunt was the _milder_ one of the lot. She shuddered at the thought of her uncles purpling face as he roared on about _her_ kind. This was going to be much harder than she thought.

"What did she mean by that?" ask George looking at the spot where Petunia had left. "What will happen if we do something to the breakfast?"

" _Nothing,_ it's nothing," said Harry and she hoped George couldn't see her shaking. "And we aren't doing anything to the breakfast."

"Something worse than bars on your window?"

"George-"

"Or being locked away?"

" _Stop,"_ demanded Harry, slamming the frying pan down on the stove top. "I let you stay here under the condition that I would have a fun summer. You _snooping_ around and trying to figure out what goes on around here isn't fun for me."

"You're making me think things are worse than you've let on, and I already thought they were pretty bad."

"They're not _bad,"_ said Harry, her tone growing slightly hysterical trying to make him understand. "Things are _manageable_ here. I've only got two summers left and I want to get through them with as little trouble as possible. And then I'll never have to look back."

George paused, standing stock still for a moment and taking her in as he did so. He seemed to be battling internally with something and Harry bit her lip watching him. His lips twitched into a smirk and he licked his lips.

"Alright Harry," he said softly and reached up to tuck a stray hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ear. "If you say so."

 _Damn lingering fingers,_ thought Harry as she fought the urge to lean into his touch.

"Breakfast," she said reluctantly pulling away. "Have you ever actually cooked?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Well then," she said shoving a box of pancake mix into his hands, " _you_ are working with the master."

* * *

George truly couldn't cook a damn thing. He burned the pancakes mercilessly even after the six attempts that Harry had tried to walk him through it. In the end, Harriet had managed to save a batch of pancakes and cook the bacon alone while George watched over her shoulder.

"You really do know how to cook, don't you?"

"It's not that hard," she said, handing him the stack of pancakes.

"Maybe not to someone who has been doing it for a while."

He was testing her and attempting to get more information out of her casually but Harriet had been covering up for the Dursleys for _years._ She was well versed at white lies and redirections. George Weasley may be quick-witted but Harriet wasn't stupid herself. Flash a smile, make a joke, offer them a conversational bean dip that had nothing to do with what goes on inside the walls of the house; _that_ was how Harry had gone years and years without people questioning her scrawny frame or a misplaced bruise that looked like fingers being wrapped around skin.

The only problem was, up until this moment, there had never been someone questioning her that was also staying within the house.

"It's honestly not that hard," she said, taking two of the burnt pancakes and putting them on a plate for herself. "I'll teach you while you're staying here."

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities," he said but his eyes were on her plate. "Why are you taking those?"

"Because-" _Because I want to eat,_ she thought. "-I like them a little darker."

" _Those_ aren't dark," he said scrunching his nose and Harry grudgingly thought he looked adorable, " _those_ are black. They're not edible."

" _Breakfast!"_ Harry called into the sitting room, ignoring George.

She had barely placed the pancakes and bacon on the table when her uncle came stomping into the dining room. Harry wondered if his face simply held a permanent purplish tint to it or if he had been fuming while watching the telly.

Probably a mixture, Harriet thought.

Petunia and Dudley came filing in after him. Petunia took a look at the burnt pancakes on Harriet's plate and gave a small nod of approval though her lips remained pierced tightly together.

"It's about time!" Vernon grumbled, piling his plate high with food. "Some of us actually have _jobs,_ you know."

"That's right," said George, grinning and Harry had to admire how little the Dursleys crude nature seemed to affect him. "What is it you do again? Make mallets or something?"

" _Drills, boy!"_ spat Vernon and chunks of pancake flew into his mustache. "I'm the _director_ of Grunnings. A prestigious company at that!"

"Never heard of it."

Harry choked and she wasn't sure if it was from her charred pancake or the sheer nerve George possessed. If she wasn't careful she _would_ end up falling in love with him simply for his cheek.

"What is it that you plan on doing then?"

The question was voiced by Petunia and Harry watched the way she regarded George as though she were attempting to catch him in a ruse. Not for the first time, Harry felt an ugly sort of possessiveness swell up inside of her. She didn't like the way her aunt was looking at George one bit.

"I'll probably just coast by on my good looks for a while," said George, shrugging goodnaturedly. "See where that takes me."

"I think that's a wonderful plan, darling," said Harry reaching out to brush some of George's hair, catching them both by surprise.

"Thanks sugar," he said grinning and lifted his plate to place one of his light, fluffy pancakes onto hers.

Harry thought perhaps she would allow him to kiss her just _once_ more as she took a bite and savored it. It was so deliciously sweet.

"You can't be serious!" barked Vernon. " _Dudley_ is planning on attending University and majoring in business. Isn't that right, son?"

Dudley, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, looked alarmed at being addressed. His eyes widened and he seemed to have a hard time swallowing his food before he could speak.

"Yeah- _business._ University. Yep."

"Like his old man!" Vernon clapped his son on the shoulder. "What is it that _your_ father does again, boy? The girl's father was unemployed. Is that common among your kind?"

"He works for the ministry," said George and Harry noticed his jaw tighten. "Supposed to give them a report later today on how Harry is."

"Is that so?"

"Yep, though all I've been able to make out so far is that she does a majority of the cooking and claims to like burnt pancakes though she seems to have only eaten the one that I gave her off of my own plate."

"Now, see here! I won't have you coming into _my_ home, telling me what to do with my niece! We've offered her nothing but our kindness-"

" _Kindness?"_

"George, _stop,"_ pleaded Harry, knowing they were getting into dangerous territory. "Why don't you help me collect the dishes and then walk to the Welborn's with me to clean their pool?"

George took her in wide eyes for a moment and seemed to be battling internally with himself.

"Please," she said so quietly she was surprised he heard her. " _Please,_ for me?"

"Alright," he said standing and Harry joined him, offering him a grateful smile. "Let's go then, love."

Harry waited until they had collected the dishes and the water was filling up the sink before she looked at George again. He was noticeably fuming and Harry, who had never dealt with this version of George before, was unsure of what to do. Before she could figure out the words to speak though, Dudley suddenly appeared next to them.

"Sorry about...all that," said Dudley awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why do you care?" Harry knew she sounded bitter but didn't care.

"I -um- I haven't forgotten...you know, about you _saving_ my life and what not last summer."

"And what not."

"Anyway, I know you've got to put together a report on Harry's time here," said Dudley to George this time. "And I was just going to let you know there's a party tonight. At my friend Piers'. I was going to see if you two would like to- to come. I thought it might be fun."

"A party," snorted Harry. " _You're_ inviting _me_ to a party?"

"Us, darling," said George grinning and Harry noticed the way the grin reached his eyes."He invited _us_ to a party _."_

"I don't want to-"

"We'll be there," said George, cutting Harry's protest off. "We'd love to go."

Dudley offered a small smile before shuffling out of the room, leaving a very stunned Harry behind.

"What the hell did you just do?" snapped Harry.

"Got us out of the house for the night," replied George, grinning.

* * *

Harry and George were friends. Truly they were, even if Harriet wanted to shove him out a window from time to time.

And the moment they walked into Piers' house, party in full swing, was one of those times that Harry wanted to dispose of him out of the nearest window.

Harry was used to being stared at in her own world, but for some reason this was _much_ more uncomfortable.

" _Sooo,"_ said George, drawing out the word as he held a red solo cup underneath his lips. "Care to explain what just happened?"

George was looking straight ahead as he asked his question where nearly every pair of eyes remained on Harriet, causing her to squirm in discomfort. George had driven the three of them over to Piers' after another horribly awkward meal with the Dursleys in which George and Vernon traded threatening insults. She was thankful to get away from her aunt and uncle, but Harriet couldn't help but feel like she was making a horrible mistake by coming to Piers' party. The last time she had seen any of these people had been years ago. She hadn't even been friends with any of them thanks to Dudley who had tormented her so much during her childhood that no one was brave enough to befriend her. She had expected there to be some awkwardness when they arrived, but she hadn't expected the whole atmosphere of the party to come to a halt when they walked through the doors.

"I suppose that they're just surprised to see me," she said after a moment. "And probably surprised to see me with someone like - _you._ I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone here probably suspects that I've been off to some sort of _reform_ school."

"Reform school?"

"It's like a school for troubled youth."

"Why would they think that?"

"Because that is what my aunt and uncle tell everyone," she said, her eyes fixed straight ahead. "And I'm assuming Dudley does as well."

"Your aunt and uncle tell everyone you go to a school for _troubled youth,"_ said George and Harry saw his jaw tighten out of the corner of her eye. "They really _can't_ accept what you are, can they?"

"What else would they say?" she asked quietly.

"Oh I don't know," he spat. "That you're finishing your schooling somewhere that's _not_ for troubled youth. Your magic isn't anything for them to be ashamed over."

"You don't understand."

And he didn't understand. He couldn't really because Harriet herself didn't understand why they hated what she was. Particularly her aunt. Her mother had been a witch; Petunia had several years to come to terms with it but apparently never had.

"What did you mean they're surprised to see you with someone like me?"

"Oh," she said taking a sip from her beer. She was thankful somewhat for George's obvious attempt at changing the subject, but this was still a somewhat embarrassing conversation topic. "You know-"

"What?"

"You have...certain- _swoon worthy_ qualities," she said, her cheeks heating up.

"Swoon worthy?" he teased, his grin spread back across his face. "Is that your way of telling me you think I'm good looking?"

"Shut up," she said elbowing him and rolling her eyes. "You _know_ that you are, and I look like- well, _me."_

"Gorgeous?"

"I need another drink!"

Harry hurried away from him and went in the direction of the kitchen, feeling the warmth growing in her cheeks as she did so. He shouldn't say stuff like that. Especially when he didn't mean it. Harry knew she wasn't _bad_ looking but she was a far cry from gorgeous. She wasn't sure why he was continuing to mess with her since Dudley had disappeared _somewhere_ in this dark, reeking place. Most likely he was with Piers plotting to beat up another ten year old.

"Potter!"

 _Oh, speak of the devil,_ thought Harry blinking in surprise. _I guess he's not off with Piers afterall._

The kitchen was crowded and Harry had barely enough room to turn to see that Piers was indeed standing over top of her. She found herself backed into a wall and wasn't sure if was the sheer number of people or the fact that Piers was entirely too close to her causing her to feel slightly wobbly.

"Piers, hey!" she said practically having to shout over the music.

"Are you having a good time?" he asked, leaning his head down towards her though she wished he wouldn't. "I told Dudley to make sure to bring you!"

"Oh," said Harry clutching her cup like a lifeline. "Yeah, loads of fun. Have you seen Dudley by the way?"

"I think I saw him go upstairs. Do you want to go check it out?"

"Check what out?"

"Upstairs, duh. Preferably my bedroom?"

He couldn't be serious, Harry thought, and then she felt a hand on her waist and knew that he was. Harry tried to step back but there wasn't much room left as it was and Piers followed her until he was practically pinning her against the wall. If she had her wand on her, she would have hexed him. If her hands weren't pressed so securely between them she would have thrown her beer in his face.

" _No."_

"Come on, Potter," he said leaning into her ear and causing her to shiver. "Relax."

"Get _off_ me."

"I don't bite-"

"But I do," said a voice and Harry had never been so thankful to see George Weasley in her entire life. "Problem, Harry?"

"Back off, man," said Piers, his hand still on her waist and Harry felt his fingers brush her skin. "She's fine here."

"Do you want to stay here, Harry?"

"No - _no._ I want to go with you," she practically yelped. " _You,_ my boyfriend!"

She knew she sounded pathetic but didn't find herself caring in that moment.

"The lady said she wants to come with me," said George offering Piers a grin though Harry saw it didn't reach his eyes.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yep," said George taking the cup from Harry's hands and tucking her hair behind her ear. "We go to school together. Just as disturbed as she is, I'm afraid."

" _What-"_

"Here, you don't mind disposing of this do you? Beer's shite anyway," and he threw the liquid in Piers' face causing the boy to sputter. "I prefer mine to have a bit more _fire_ to it, anyway."

" _What the hell man-"_

George smirked and turned towards Harry, offering his arm to her. "Come on, darling."

Harry took his arm without questioning it only looking back to spare half a glance to Piers who was sputtering wordlessly. Harry's eyes darted to George's hand which was pocketing his wand. He must have hexed Piers which clearly broke one of their rules, but Harry found she didn't really give a damn at that moment.

Rules were meant to be broken, after all.

And looking up at George who offered her another rare, real smile, she was afraid that _she_ may soon be the one to break the most important rule. Feeling somehow both unsure and steady for the first time that day, she lowered her hand from his arm and linked her fingers through his as she let someone lead _her_ for a change.


	4. Day 4

**A/N: Please don't forget to review!**

 **And for those of you that showed interest in Straight and Narrow, I've decided to continue that. It will be the next thing I work on!**

 **Again, I can't thank you enough for showing interest in my stories. A long time ago, my YA lit professor made a comment that HP couldn't work with a female protagonist and I think I may have taken it way, way too far. But seriously, the fact that you guys want to read my stuff is incredible** **.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Four**

 **Or**

 **I Can Feel the Cracks in My Spirit**

 **Day Four:**

"Mr. Darcy is an _arse."_

"He's _not!"_

"He is! Refusing to dance when there were so many girls without partners!"

"He's just-he's socially awkward, George. He's got a lot of growing to do."

George snorted.

They were at the Welborn's cleaning out the pool and Harry and George were having a heated discussion over _Pride and Prejudice_ of all things. She hadn't expected George to become so enthralled with the book which she normally would have liked, but he _hated_ Mr. Darcy.

And, well, Harry may have found herself with a bit of a fictional crush on him.

"I thought you said he reminded you of your dad," said George. "From what you told me your dad wasn't socially awkward."

"I didn't say Mr. Darcy necessarily reminded me of my dad. I said it helped me understand my parents situation more. Misunderstandings and what have you."

"Kind of like how your cousin _misunderstood_ his git of a friend's intentions for inviting you to that party last night?"

"Don't start on that again," she said while rolling her eyes. "I already told you. I don't think Dudley knew."

Their golden moment last night where Harry thought she could possibly fall in love with George had lasted all of twenty seconds and had exploded the moment they got onto Piers' front garden. Harry had never in her life shouted at someone like she did George, but he had that power over her. He would call it _passion._ She would call it temporary bouts of insanity.

Either way, they had gotten into one of the worst rows she'd ever been in over his misplaced chivalry and had since been arguing over smaller things since the larger argument had gone unresolved. They fought over who would get to cook the sausage this morning, who was taking up more space in the bed (to which Harry reminded George that he was _lucky_ to even lay in her bed with her) , and now currently about Mr. Darcy.

But it all lead back to that damned party and Harry was getting frustrated.

" _Right,"_ said George, matching her eye roll with one of his own. "He didn't _know._ Do you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn't been there?"

"Yeah, I do actually! I wouldn't have even _been_ at that party in the first place! And, anyway, it's not like I can't take care of myself!"

"I _know_ that, alright! I know you can take care of yourself! I just-"

"Just _what?"_

"I just think," he said slowly while running a hand through his hair, "that maybe you shouldn't _have_ to take care of yourself. At least not all of the time."

"What-"

"Forget it," said George. "Let's do something today. Let's go somewhere."

"Don't you think we've been leaving _too_ much? I don't think I'm supposed to be going out that much."

"Harry," he teased, smirking. "You're with an _Order member._ Frankly, my dear, I can take you wherever I want."

"Does the Order even know that you're here?"

"That's a bit of a grey area."

Harry bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to give George the satisfaction of watching her crumble. She didn't necessarily _want_ to go back to her aunt and uncle's house. Petunia was home today and upset over the state of her garden which meant that Harry would have to go straight to work on it should she go home. She was thinking of all the possible ways that this could go wrong when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and felt a hot breath on the nape of her neck. She couldn't help the smile that graced lips or the pounding of her heart. He really was quite cheeky and she was finding it more and more endearing.

"Come on, Potter," he said, his lips barely grazing her neck. "Let's get lost for the afternoon."

"Hmm."

"It will be _fun,"_ he said while pulling her closer. Her head fit just below his chin. "I promised you a summer of fun, didn't I?"

"Oh alright," she said, turning in his arms and encircling his neck with her own. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm glad you asked."

He leaned down and placed a kiss on her neck on the spot just below her ear that made her feel tingles and caused her hips to tilt forward into his. And for a moment, Harry forgot that none of this was real as her eyes fluttered shut.

For a moment, she forgot he was breaking one of her own rules.

For a moment, he was just a boy and she was just a girl.

Just for a moment.

* * *

"I've never been to the cinema before."

"Me either," said George grinning down at her.

They were standing in line waiting to buy popcorn - which smelled _heavenly_ and was making Harry's stomach growl in a most embarrassing way - and George was practically bouncing in place with excitement. Neither one had ever seen a movie before, but George appeared to be having a sensory overload and Harry was having to keep a tight grip on his arm to keep him from spiraling out of control.

Which was proving to be difficult because she was fairly certain George had busted her brain earlier and being in such close proximity to him wasn't helping her foggy state. His lips had remained on the sensitive place just below her ear for nearly twenty seconds - she had _counted -_ and during those twenty excruciatingly long seconds several fantasies had crossed her mind that weren't appropriate especially since they weren't actually _dating._

She wondered briefly how it would feel if his teeth were to graze that spot if just his lips caused such a sensation. She wondered what it would be like to bite _his_ neck. She then wondered about shoving him into the pool for making her think such things. And even _that_ made her think dirty thoughts because he was wearing a stupidly tight shirt and now she couldn't get the thought of him drenched while wearing said shirt out of her mind.

 _Honestly,_ she thought, _when did these damn hormones decide to kick in?_

"Calm down, weirdo," she said, hoping the heat she felt on her cheeks wasn't visable.

"What is _Star Wars_ anyway?"

"I've never seen it," she said looking away from him and his stupid shirt and towards the concessions instead. "But I heard it's one of those movies that you're _supposed_ to see before you die or something."

Dudley had never been interested in _Star Wars_ and even if he had the tapes Harry would not have been allowed to watch them. She wasn't allowed to touch the telly and the only snippets she was able to catch during her chores were of the news. Dudley had gone to the cinema loads of times with his friends, but Harry was never allowed to tag along. Petunia would probably be furious when she found out that she had skived off her daily chores to go to the _movies._

The thought made her smile.

"That looks good on you, you know," said George directly into her ear.

"What?"

"That smile."

And then he flashed her one of his own - all bright and _real -_ and Harry felt the tingles from earlier spread down to her toes.

" _Will you cut it out!"_

"Cut what out?"

She couldn't exactly explain the tingly feeling to him. That would be _horrifying._

So instead she said, "Your teeth are too white."

Which - _honestly-_ wasn't that much better, Harry thought as she rapped her forehead with her knuckles and ignored George's smirk that was just a bit too knowing.

* * *

How Harry had gone the whole of her life being robbed of the absolute masterpiece that was _Star Wars,_ she would never know. The droids were her favorite but she related so much to both Luke and Leia. Somehow both the hero of her story and eager to help and yet captured and also searching for help.

She felt all mixed up.

And George wasn't helping matters any.

Because she _was_ the chosen one but she honestly didn't expect to make it out alive at the end of her story. She had known this - had been preparing for it- since her talk with Dumbledore. The only thing she hadn't prepared for were matters of the heart.

 _Jane Austen would be so disappointed in me,_ she thought.

He had always been there, George that is. He had rooted himself in her life from the moment he assisted her with her trunk years ago. And now she felt as though he were _uprooting_ her, causing her to doubt her place, or doubt whether or not she wanted this role in her story.

It would be a _disaster_ if he found out she cared. Particularly because this was just a joke to him. _Especially_ because she couldn't afford to be distracted from her part in the war.

Indeed, she was all mixed up.

And the worst part was…

"I think I've developed a bit of a man-crush on this Solo bloke," whispered George.

The worst part was he had no fucking clue of the torment she was feeling.

The slightly - just ever so slightly - worse part was now she couldn't get the image of George in Han Solo's clothes out of her mind.

* * *

Harry had a stomach ache and she wasn't sure if it was from all the popcorn and candy she had eaten during the movie or her realization that she had real feelings for George. Either way, she was currently unable to sleep.

After the movie, they had come back to her aunt and uncle's to find a very perturbed Petunia waiting for them in the kitchen. She had been sitting down at the kitchen table waiting for them in the dark like some loon. When Harry had flicked on the lights, she nearly screamed.

"Where have you been?" she asked, standing from her seat. "I _told_ you this morning that my garden was in need of tending to."

Harry, who was feeling rather on edge herself, was nearly about to reply where her aunt could shove her pruning shears when George stepped in front of her, effectively blocking Petunia's path to her.

"Why does that have anything to do with Harry?" asked George, his tone sharp. "You've been home all day. Surely you haven't been waiting around on her all day to look after _your_ garden?"

" _You,"_ hissed Petunia, advancing on him. "You're just like _him._ That Potter boy. I see the way you look at my niece. Even when she's not looking. I know what boys like you are capable of."

"You say I'm like Harriet's dad like it's a _bad_ thing," said George, smirking in her aunt's face. "I don't think Harriet would think so."

"Harriet," said her aunt through clenched teeth, though she didn't take her eyes off of George. "Go upstairs."

"What? No I'm not-"

" _Now!"_

"You can't-"

"Go ahead," said George warmly to her. "Why don't you go hop in the bath? It might help your stomach ache. She's not going to do anything I can't handle."

Harry stood stock still for a moment looking between George and her aunt with her mouth open in protest though none came out.

"Go on, love," said George. "I'll be up in a bit."

Harry turned slowly to leave pausing once to glance back at George who offered her a wink. She wasn't sure exactly what was said though she thought she heard the shattering of glass and raised voices while she soaked in the bath. Thirty minutes had gone by when George finally returned to Harry's bedroom to find her sitting on her bed expectantly, hair soaked and the front of her nightshirt damp on one side from where she had pulled her hair and had been ringing it nervously.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he said with a smirk though Harry noticed it didn't reach his eyes.

He didn't elaborate more than that and none of Harry's methods of persuasion were effective (though all she had really tried was hitting him with her pillow over and over until he snatched it away). They had retired to bed, where Harry was currently laying staring upward at the ceiling, her mind still racing.

Moonlight flooded into her room causing a blanket of light to cover it. George was laying next to her, his back to her so she couldn't tell whether or not he was asleep. She looked over at him and sighed. What could her aunt have possibly had to say to George that she couldn't say in front of Harriet herself?

It didn't make sense.

None of this did.

All these years on her own - _fighting_ on her own. She'd been fine with that. Had never really thought much about it. And suddenly _George Weasley_ shows up one summer afternoon and she was left wondering what it would be like to _not_ be alone.

Left wondering what it would be like if all of this was - _real._

Really, really real.

Would her heart still pound in her chest as it was now if they were really together? As though it were about to burst? Would it pound differently? Would it flutter - would it fall - would it soar? Would the tingles she felt earlier from a simple brush of lips against skin spread or cause her whole body to tremble should he graze other parts of her?

She squirmed against the sheets of her bed thinking of his fingers, his lips trailing parts of her that no other person had ever touched.

She sighed again and heard the quiver in her voice.

"She told me I was going to break your heart," said George from next to her.

He rolled slowly to face Harry and she turned as well so that they were laying nose to nose, her fists balled up in between them. His eyes darted over her troubled features once before he offered her a smirk that was cloaked in moonlight.

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that if I loved you any less I'd be able to express it more," he said softly. "But that I would never break your heart."

"Well then," said Harry, her heart beating wildly. "It's almost a pity she's getting all worked up over something that's not real."

" _Harriet."_

"What- oh," breathed Harry, seeing in his eyes a sort of longing that matched her own. " _Oh."_

He was looking at her the way a man looked at a woman. The way she had read about in Jane Austen novels, the way she had seen other couples at Hogwarts look at each other, and she wondered if love made you blind in more ways than one for her to _not_ have noticed it before.

"Caught up, have you?" he asked, rolling himself over so that he was hovering over top of her. "I knew you were a bit thick, but honestly, I thought you would have caught on sooner than this."

Harry could think of no clever protest. Not with his lips hovering just above hers and the pounding of her heart now so loud that it was in her ears and she was certain he could hear it too. She wondered how he could possibly look so calm and put together when she felt as though she were bursting. As though she were igniting. As though he had lit some fuse and she were aflame.

He dipped his head down, slowly, and her hands balled themselves onto his night shirt. His lips grazed her neck once more and the familiar tingles caused Harry to hips to thrust where they were met with his own and he elicited a low sort of hiss against her neck.

" _Fuck."_

His lips trailed upwards and his teeth nipped at her skin and Harry squirmed from underneath him. He placed a kiss just on the corner of her mouth before pausing and Harry let out a whimper objection.

"You know," he said, his voice husky. "I think you have to tell me if I can go any further. I'm pretty sure that's part of the _rules-"_

She reached up and pulled him down towards her, the rest of his cheek lost against her mouth. His lips were warm against hers and he didn't kiss Harry as though she were fragile, as though she were something breakable, he kissed her as though she were fierce. As though he had waited the whole of his life to do so. And Harriet knew what a lightning strike must feel like in that moment.


	5. Day 5

**A/N: My tumblr name is alrightginger now. Just an fyi since I changed it or if you'd like to follow me. I try to answer any questions I get about my writings!**

 **Please don't forget to review!**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Or**

 **Watch It Now, Here He Comes**

 **Day Five:**

"Oh."

How long they had been intertwined with one another, she wasn't sure. All she knew is the first rays of morning sun were peeking through her window and her eyes had only fluttered shut whenever he grazed her skin rather than submitting themselves to sleep.

"Oh."

His lips, his hands, his teeth. They had been attempting to cover every inch of her for hours now and Harriet was coming undone. His lips were trailing down towards her stomach, dragging their way down towards her hips where his hands were clasping them down firmly as they bucked from the sensation.

"Oh."

Her shirt was hitched up, her pajama bottoms long disposed of, and the only thing that remained down below was the thin material of her knickers which were embarrassingly soaked. His teeth grazed her right hip before latching themselves onto her knickers and dragging them downward.

" _Oh!"_

"You can throw a couple 'George's' in there as well," he said, his voice husky. "If you'd like."

He nuzzled her center with his nose and Harry whimpered feeling the heat of his breath against the bundle of nerves.

"No?" he said. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down closer towards him easily. "Let's see if I can get you to say it then, yeah?"

And his tongue brushed just _there_ \- right _there-_ and Harriet felt as though she would come up off the bed if not for his hands holding her in place.

 _"So good,"_ he murmured. "You taste so fucking good."

 _God,_ she had never been touched this way. His mouth was wicked _everywhere_ and she never wanted it to stop. Her eyes rolled back, and she shoved a hand in her mouth to keep from moaning.

"Mouth open, darling," he said, pulling her hand away. He rose up to meet her at eye level. One of his hands taking the place of his mouth and slipping two fingers inside of her, the other pinning her wrist above her head. "I want to be able to hear you."

" _George!"_

" _There_ we go," he said, quickening his pace and placing a kiss at the base of her neck. "That's not so hard, now is it?"

She was panting, her chest was heaving, and she was pleading wordlessly with him. She was so, _so_ close.

"What do you want, Harriet?"

She opened her mouth but the only thing that came out was the sound of her whimpering.

"Harry-"

Her back arched and her free hand grabbed the bars of her bed, willing it to anchor her. _God,_ she was going to float away if this went on much longer.

"Harry-"

 _So close._ She was _so, so close-_

"HARRY!"

Eyes flying open, Harry abruptly sat upwards. Her breathing was labored and she clutched her chest with her hand. She looked around and let out a ragged cry. She was in her bedroom at the Dursleys and the boy in her dreams was next to her, his tongue nowhere near - well- where she had _dreamed_ it had been just moments ago, and was looking at her with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His eyebrows were knitted together and his fingers brushed some of her fringe back from her eyes. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Nightmare?"

He nodded. "You were muttering and whining. It wasn't-"

"No," she said quickly. His hair was _extremely_ untidy and he smelled like - like a _man._ "Nothing like that."

"Want to talk about it?"

" _No!"_

Merlin, her knickers being wet was _not_ a dream and she needed to get out of there. It should be illegal for someone to look so attractive so early in the morning while she was certain her hair was sticking up in every direction and she had horrible morning breath.

"Harry-"

"I'm going to shower!"

She bolted from the room hearing him calling after her. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind her and locking it securely, she slumped against the door and let out a shaky breath.

 _What the hell just happened?_ She had never in her life had such a dream. Merlin, she had actually felt like she was going to - to -

She caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and shook her head. She almost didn't recognize her own eyes. They had never held that look before. Wild, desperate. Almost feral. _George Weasley_ could do that to her, she was discovering. Make her feel so many things at once. Passion, anger, humor, completely _untamed_ desire.

She was being ridiculous.

She discarded of her clothes and started the water before stepping in and closing the curtain around her. What she needed was a nice, cold shower. And if that didn't do the trick - well, she wasn't above taking _other_ measures to find relief.

The water cleared her mind, however, allowing bits of reality to come floating back. They hadn't gone exactly as far as she dreamed, but they had kissed last night. They had kissed _a lot._ And there had been a bit of grinding of hips together but nothing like what her subconscious had dreamed up.

She was thoroughly embarrassed.

She lathered her hair up and sighed. She wanted to do it again, the kissing. And part of her - the real, deep down, primal part of her - wanted to do all the things they had done in her dream.

She needed to talk to George - _not_ about the dream - but about the kiss last night. She wanted to know where they stood and what the kiss meant to him.

" _Caught up, have you?"_

She shivered as her hands grazed down her neck the same way his lips had done.

" _I knew you were a bit thick, but honestly, I thought you would have caught on sooner than this."_

 _Did_ he truly like her? It certainly seemed that way last night. The way he reacted to her touch whenever her hands would rake through his hair or her hips would grind against his or their lips would meet…

 _Fuck._

She liked him too. So, so much.

She needed to talk to him _now,_ she thought, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around her. She was collected enough to have some sort of conversation. She crossed the corridor back to her room, combing her fingers through her hair as she did so. He would be downstairs now and she could talk to him while they were making breakfast and she could tell him then that she liked him. And that she wanted to do _everything_ they had done last night again.

Except he wasn't downstairs.

Which she discovered as soon as she opened her bedroom door with a shriek.

" _George!"_

Her back hit the door with a loud _thud_ and Harry became increasingly aware of how short and thin the material of her towel was. George seemed to notice as well for his face turned scarlet and Harry thought fleetingly that she had never seen him blush before. She rather liked him taken off guard.

"I thought you took your clothes with you!" he cried looking everywhere but her.

"I thought _you_ were downstairs!" she yelped. She clutched her towel tighter to her as though it would come unwrapped at any moment. "Why aren't you downstairs?"

"I wanted to talk to you!" he groaned. "About last night."

"Oh," she said and she felt her heart beating faster. She was fearful that he was going to tell her that he regretted what had happened. That they shouldn't do it again. Shouldn't speak of it anymore-

"I'm sorry, Harry. I feel like I took advantage of you last night, and I want you to know it won't happen again."

Silence followed his words in which Harry attempted to gather all of her Gryffindor courage.

"Do you not _want_ to do it again?" she asked slowly.

"What- _no!_ I want to do it again," he said. He turned to look at her finally but could only bring himself to gaze at her feet. "I've liked you for a year now and last night was _amazing._ Fucking hell. Of course I want to do it again. I mean - look at you! And it's not just your looks - it's - it's just _everything_ about you. But you were so freaked out this morning that I assumed you didn't-"

"I do," she said, cutting him off. She crossed the room towards him slowly. She stopped when she was directly in front of him and could see the way his blush ran upwards and tinted his ears. "I want to do it again."

He swallowed, finally meeting her in the eye. "Right now?"

"Preferably," she said biting her lower lip. "If you'd like."

"Even in your... _towel?"_

"Is the towel your only objection?" she asked, tilting her head slightly and smiling.

He grinned."It's rather _distracting."_

"Well, I can take care of that."

And feeling a bit brave and not caring whether or not she would regret it later, Harry dropped her towel to the floor where it pooled around her ankles. She kicked at it with her feet never once breaking eye contact with George who had gone wide-eyed and his mouth slack.

"Hand me my clothes," she said. "From on top of the dresser."

He whimpered and practically stumbled into her dresser before handing her the clothes she requested. She took her time putting on each individual item of clothing, secretly enjoying the way he squirmed but never took his eyes off of her.

"Better?" she asked once she was fully dressed.

Her only response was being lifted from the air - her legs wrapping around his waist, their lips crashing together- before her back hit the mattress of her bed.

There would be plenty of time for talking later, but not nearly enough time for this.

* * *

Petunia was furious when Harry never came down to make breakfast. She had actually attempted to open the door to her room but George locked it with a wave of his wand, never once taking his lips from hers. Harry heard the demands of her aunt but for once in her life ignored them.

 _Sorry Aunt Petunia,_ she thought to herself. _You don't_ not _kiss George Weasley back._

But Petunia was _seething_ when they finally emerged downstairs -lips swollen and a love bite on her niece's neck - and George loudly declared that he was taking Harry out for the day and not to wait up. Her aunt had shouted at them until they were out of the door where the neighbors could hear if she followed. Harry waved cheerfully at Mrs. Figg who was out on her front porch enjoying her morning coffee.

Snogging a boy in her room, going out for the day with him, disobeying her relatives.

Harriet felt like a _normal_ teenager.

At least for a moment.

"What are we doing today?" she asked strapping her seat belt on and feeling positively giddy.

"Name it, love," he said grinning. He put his sunglasses on with one hand as he drove the way he had the first time she'd ever been in his car and this time Harry leaned over to kiss him on his jawline. "We can do more of that if you'd like."

"Let's go eat, let's go to a record store, let's just _be together."_

"Let's do all those things."

* * *

"Where'd you really get that car?"

They were at the nearest record store they could find, and Harry was flipping through them without really looking. She didn't know much about muggle music - or _any_ music truthfully. But she was thrilled nonetheless.

"I bought it," he said truthfully inspecting an album quizzically.

"How?"

He grinned. "You'll see soon enough. I promise."

"I can't persuade you otherwise?"

"You can certainly _try,"_ he said smirking though his ears tinted pink. "I swear, only you could make putting _on_ clothes seem so hot."

"I'm talented like that," she teased. She paused for a moment. Not entirely sure if this was the sort of conversation for a record store, but knowing if they were alone at any other place there wouldn't be much room for talking. " _Sooo,_ about everything that just happened-"

George perked up. "Yeah?"

"What are you _really_ doing here, George Weasley? Why did you decide to stop by that afternoon?"

"I told you," he said. "I wanted to see you."

"Is that honestly it?"

"You really thought this whole thing was just a _joke_ didn't you," he laughed.

Harry flushed. "I didn't know _what_ to think. You never take anything seriously."

"I take you seriously. Honestly, you can't believe I came here just to prank your family. If you haven't noticed, I haven't actually done one single prank. I came here for _you._ I came to see _you._ And the whole opportunity just kind of fell in my lap and I couldn't pass it up. I thought that - even if we were _faking_ it - you would see how good we are together. Or could be together. I was kinda just hoping to get by on the 'fake it till you make it' plan, and I guess in a way it worked," he said shrugging.

"Fake it till you make it," she said. Smiling, she peered down at the album she had in her hands. _Rubber Soul_ by The Beatles. "Did you - did _we_ make it? Do you think?"

"I think we could. If you want to. We could do this thing for real?"

He was closer to her now and she had to peer up at him as she normally did. He was tall and her head fit perfectly under his chin.

"Okay," she said. His lips were inches from hers and she rested a hand on the back of his head. "Let's do this for real."

"You're on, Potter. This is going to be _big,_ you know."

And he kissed her there and Harry closed her eyes willing herself to remember this moment in its entirety. For there are moments that stand out in a person's life. Moments that have earth shattering, life altering consequences. And Harriet didn't realize it then, but in that little record store on the outskirts of Surrey she made a decision that would forever alter her life. For at the end of her life, when the green light was speeding towards her, she would think of George. Of the mischief in his eyes, the smirk on his face, and she would think of many long nights spent with him that would seem almost too good to be true. And she would think of the moment in the record store when she made the choice that would eventually lead to her falling in love. Deep, heartbreaking, bittersweet love that would both undo and secure her. And she would think of how it all started the summer before she turned sixteen.


	6. Day 6

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter! It gave me some problems, and then I had to redo some of the outline in general for the story. AND THEN I got hit with a bunch of ideas for the sequel, and had to write them all down before I forgot.**

 **You can follow me on tumblr if you'd like (alrightginger). I post updates on my writings, and will answer questions on any of them. I'll also post previews if I get asked or if I feel guilty. Which is what happened with this chapter lol.**

 **Don't forget to review! It really keeps me going!**

 **Chapter Six**

 **Or**

 **It's a Great Big World**

 **Day Six:**

On the sixth day of George staying at Private Drive, and the second _real_ day of their relationship, Harriet and George found themselves spending the midmorning attempting to make a cake. They had gone to the store in George's car, and bought a simple white box cake with buttercream icing to top it with. Harry had gotten the idea after George had burnt the scrambled eggs so badly the smoke alarms had gone off.

Cooking clearly wasn't George's thing.

But maybe baking was.

The only problem with that logic was the fact that they were nearly impossible around each other now. It was as if they were being constantly drawn into each other by some sort of gravitational pull. Whenever Harry moved one way, George followed. Whenever George shifted slightly in any given direction, Harry felt her body tilt with him. She was aware of his every movement, and his eyes charted hers. Harry had never been in a relationship before, but she had seen them at play at Hogwarts, and read about them in her Jane Austen novels during the summer. She assumed this phase of not wanting any sort of space between each other was normal. That the fact that there was a constant brushing of fingertips, placement of hands on each other's backs, and stolen kisses was common in such a new relationship. She suspected as much, at least.

It just didn't serve well for something like _baking_ where they needed more than an elbow's distance between them.

"Okay," said Harry, giggling slightly, and handing him the bag of cake mix. "Take this, and dump it in that orange bowl I gave you."

"I don't understand any of this," he said, eyeing the bag suspiciously. "How is _this_ supposed to turn into a cake?"

"You'll _see_ if you ever do what I tell you!"

"You're a bit bossy, you know that?" He tossed the cake mix in the bowl carelessly, and it flew everywhere. "But I sort of like it."

" _George!"_

"What?"

Harry had gotten a mouth full of cake powder, and she was certain there was some smudged on her nose as well. George took one look at her, and burst out laughing.

"What happened to you?" he asked. As though _he_ wasn't the one that had happened to her, and had been happening to her since the first day of summer. "You look ridiculous."

Harry wiped furiously at her face. "What _happened_ to me?" She grabbed an egg, one of the three that was supposed to be used for the cake, and cracked it over his head causing him to yelp. " _You_ happened to me!"

"What the hell, Harriet?" he sputtered, attempting to wipe the egg out of his hair, and getting yolk stuck to his hand. " _Ugh! Gross!"_

Harry laughed, doubling over, and clutching her stomach as she did so. Now _he_ looked ridiculous.

"Oh, you think it's funny do you?" He smirked at her, grabbing another egg, and advancing towards her. "Let's see how you like it!"

Harry shrieked and darted away from him, but George was quicker. She felt an arm snake around her waist, pulling her into his hard chest, before feeling the slimy egg yolk running down her head.

" _Ahhh!"_

"Hmm," he hummed. He took a step back, placing his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side, and observed her. "You somehow _still_ look incredibly hot even with egg in your hair."

"Oh my _god,"_ she huffed. "Don't just stand there! Help me get cleaned up!"

"Oh, right. Sorry, love," he said, and grabbed the cup full of water that Harry had so carefully measured out for the cake.

" _No!_ Not like- _George!"_

Harry wasn't sure why she had expected any less. George was _exactly_ the type of boyfriend to throw a cup of water in your face when you asked for help. Granted, that didn't make her feel any less peeved while she was standing there, dripping water.

"You look even _better_ soaking wet."

Harry blinked over at him, wiping the water from her eyes, and glaring. He was entirely _too_ dry.

"I wonder," she said, walking over towards the sink, "if you'd look just as _good_ soaking wet."

" _Shite,_ Harry, _no!"_ He began backing away, but in a true seeker fashion Oliver Wood would have been proud of, Harry quickly grabbed the sprayer attached to the sink and hosed him down. " _Fucking hell, woman!"_

"Not so fun to be on the other side is it!" Harry was squealing with laughter in a way she'd never heard herself before, backing him into a corner of the kitchen, and watching him slip and slide in attempts to get away from her. "Is it?"

" _Merlin,_ Harry! I give," he sputtered, mouth full of water, and trying to shield his face with his hands. "I give!"

Harry released the sprayer's handle, a few drops of water falling from it, and dripping into the much larger puddle on the floor. George was _drenched._ His shirt was sticking to him, and his hair - now darker from the water - was shaggy and dripping.

"Well," she said, twirling the sprayer in her hand. "You _do_ look quite good this way."

George grinned at her. Completely unbothered by the fact that he was soaking wet. As if this was a normal state for him to find himself in at any given day.

"Good enough to snog?"

"Maybe," she said, biting her lower lip.

He was much sweeter than cake, anyway.

"What on _earth_ happened in here?"

Harry started. Through all the commotion Harry had forgotten that they weren't alone in the house, and all the noise would call for an audience. Petunia was standing in the doorway, looking at her kitchen's state with an expression of disgust. Her eyes soon drifted to Harry, but didn't shift in anyway. As though Harry was just another blemish in her perfect kitchen.

"We're baking," said Harry plainly.

" _Baking,"_ spat Petunia. "This whole kitchen is _trashed._ You've absolutely destroyed it!"

"Is this not how you bake a cake?" asked George.

He had such an expression of innocence that Harry burst out laughing, unable to help herself, and soon George was laughing too. Doubled over, clutching their stomachs, wheezing for breaths. Harry had never laughed so much in all her years at Private Drive. Her aunt cleared her throat, clearly annoyed, and the pair of them took one look at her before dissolving into laughter again.

"You think this is _funny?"_ Petunia spat. "Who do you think is going to have to clean this up?"

"Oh, _I don't know,"_ said Harry, rolling her eyes. A sudden stupid bravery ran through her that she knew she would pay for later. "Who do you think is going to clean this up, _George?"_

George caught her expression, his eyes suddenly shining with mirth. "Hmm, Harry. I'm not sure. Probably the same person who has to cook the breakfast?"

"And the lunch."

"And the dinner."

" _And_ tend to the garden," said Harry. She turned to meet Petunia with eyes just as hard as the one's her aunt held for her. "But you know what? I think that person needs a break today. _Someone else_ can clean up after her, and see how much they enjoy picking up messes they didn't make."

"Don't you _dare,"_ hissed her aunt. "Don't you _dare_ walk away from this mess, Harriet Potter!"

But Harry was already heading towards the door, grabbing a very amused looking George Weasley by the hand, and dragging him behind her.

"Have fun!" called Harry.

"What do you think you're doing? Get back here-"

But Harry didn't look back. Slamming the door shut behind her, and feeling as though she was an entirely different person than the one who had entered that very front door six days ago. As if the girl she was at Hogwarts had followed her home. And there was George Weasley, running ahead of her, and opening the car door for her to slide into. Grinning at her in a way that made her grin right back at him. The hot summer sun shining down on him, making him look impossibly brighter than he already was.

* * *

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

" _George!"_

"I can't look at you?"

Harry huffed, rolling her eyes. George had cleaned them both up easily with his wand, and the pair of them found themselves at a Mexican restaurant that neither of them had ever been to before, eating food that neither one of them had never tried before. Harry liked the chips and salsa, but it was hard to enjoy the food under George's stare. He had been looking at her as if he couldn't look away since they had left her house. As if she were the brightest thing in the room.

"It's the _way_ you're looking at me," she said.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, leaning back in his chair. "But that was the hottest damn thing I have ever seen."

"It wasn't _hot,"_ she said. "It was incredibly stupid."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No it w _asn't._ They treat you like _shite._ They act like your very existence is an annoyance to them."

"Because it _is-"_

"It _shouldn't_ be! They're your _family!"_

"They're hardly my _family,"_ she snorted. "Ron and Hermione, _they're_ my family. _Your_ family is my family. Your parents have been kinder to me than the Dursleys ever have."

George regarded Harry almost sadly, and Harry - not used to seeing such an expression on her boyfriend's face- didn't like it. She'd rather him look at her as though she had caught the snitch with moments to spare like he had just seconds ago than _this._ She wasn't something that ought to be mourned over. She didn't ever want to be the cause of that expression on his face. Her time at her aunt and uncle's house was short, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just a drop in the bucket compared to how she got to live the rest of the year.

"Sooo," said Harry, drawing out the word. She couldn't believe what she was about to ask. "Do you want to teach me how to swim?"

George's eyes went wide. "You want me to teach you how to swim?"

Harry shrugged. "If you want. I haven't actually been in the water since the second task, and the day that I - that I sunk to the bottom of the pool and you found me."

"I didn't bring anything to swim in," he said. "And you're wearing another summer dress - _which_ by the way, I don't think you wear enough. You _never_ wear that sort of stuff at school."

"We wear _uniforms,"_ said Harry, rolling her eyes. "Besides it's _hot_ here."

"I'm just saying, you've got the longest legs-"

" _George!"_

"They look good, you know, _out._ Where I can see them."

"You're not even going to _school_ with me anymore. Do you really want Finnigan staring at my legs?"

" _No,"_ he said quickly. "You know what, never mind, save your summer dresses for me."

Harry grinned, propping her elbow up on the table, and placing her hand under her chin.

"So, you won't teach me to swim because we don't have the proper _attire?"_

"I mean, I guess I could conjure something out of something-"

"Do we really _need_ clothes to swim?" asked Harry, biting her lower lip. "Honestly?"

George's mouth went slack, and his fork hit the table, clattering with his plate.

* * *

Though Harry had been a bit cross with her aunt for volunteering her to look after the Welborn's house and pool for the summer, she couldn't help but be a bit thankful for it now. Now when the hot summer sun had long set, and Harry was straddling George over top of one of the pool chairs. Now when his hands were grazing her thighs, pushing the material of her dress - thank _Merlin_ for summer dresses, and the easy access they gave his fingertips to her skin - up higher and higher. When her lips were furiously trying to places kisses on every inch of him. When her hands were tugging the tight, cotton shirt over his head. Moving then to grab tuffs of his hair and pull. Moving further down to to graze his jawline where he hadn't shaved, and her fingers brushed the beginnings of his gruff. Further down still, where she felt her Gryffindor courage swell up inside of her, and she undid the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops until it was off, tossed carelessly on the ground.

She felt the hiss of breath against her own lips, and his stomach twitch when she grazed his bare skin, and undid the button of his trousers. She was _mad._ Insane, mentally unwell, _completely_ off her rocker to have even _suggested_ this. But she couldn't help but feel like it was the best idea she'd ever had.

" _Off,"_ he ordered, tugging at her dress. She broke from his lips just long enough to raise her arms up over her head, and for him to pull the dress over. Thank _Merlin_ she had thought to put on her matching lace knickers and bra this morning. " _Fuck."_

George ran a hand through his hair, letting his head fall back, and Harry watched it hit the chair. His eyes were wide as he took her in, and Harry felt the fingers still on her thighs twitch with anticipation.

"Do you want to touch me?" Harry wondered when her voice had attained a _purring_ sort of quality. She had _never_ sounded like that before. "Because you can, you know. If you want to."

"I _want_ to," he said. He sounded as though he was close to imploding. As though she was undoing him. "Fuck me, do I want to."

"Where do you want to touch me?"

" _Everywhere."_

She grabbed his hand, guiding it upwards, and placing it on her breast. "There?" He inhaled, giving it a tentative squeeze, and Harry pushed it further so that he was grabbing her more roughly. More surely. Reaching for his other hand, she lead it up to her free breast. Not wanting one to receive special attention over the other. "How about _here?"_

" _Fuck,"_ he breathed. His eyes were wide and dilated. "Yes, _there, here, everywhere."_

Harry bit back a moan, and leaned forward to press her lips to his again. She then placed deep, open mouthed kisses down kiss neck, stopping every so often to graze his skin with her teeth.

He was groaning, deep and low in his throat, when Harry stood, laughing slightly at his dismayed expression from their lack of contact.

" _Up,"_ she said, pulling on his hand. "And take your trousers off. _Just_ your trousers."

"But you said-"

"The _neighbors,_ George. I don't want to give them too much of a show."

George groaned, but did as he was told. His pants pooled around his ankles, and he kicked them off as though they had offended him in some way. Harry crossed her arms, biting her lower lip as she looked him over. _Fuck_ he was fit. Quidditch had been so kind to him. She ought to write Wood and thank him.

"Like what you see?" George had caught her staring, and was smirking. Harry found herself unable to feel ashamed, though.

"Yes," she said, looking him in the eye. "I do."

"Back at you, Potter."

Harry turned towards the pool, feeling suddenly nervous about being in the water with a fit boy. Drowning wouldn't be considered attractive. But before she could overthink it, there was a flash next to her, and then George was jumping into the water, splashing her for the second time that day.

"Oh my god," she cried. "That's _cold!"_

"It's not that bad," he retorted, swimming over to her. "Come on in, Potter!"

"I'm not a good swimmer," she said, sitting down on the edge of the pool and sticking her feet in. It was _freezing._ "No one ever taught me."

"Good to know considering I found you the first day _sitting on the bottom of the pool,"_ he snorted. "Come on." He reached a hand out towards her. "I'll hold onto you if you'd like."

"You promise?"

"Of course."

Harry jumped into the pool before she could talk herself out of it, shrieking as the chilly water lapped at her skin. George's arms wrapped tightly around her, and Harry found herself being carried bridal style, hands wrapped tightly around his neck, teeth chattering.

"Don't let go of me," she said, clinging to him as though she would drown if she were to let go. "I'm not ready to be let go of just yet."

"I'm not going to let you go."

Harry believed him.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how long they had been in the water, but by the time they had climbed out, her skin was wrinkly and she smelled of chlorine. George had dried them off with his wand as he had done for her the first day of summer, except this time Harry didn't stare at him as he did so with him smirking back at her. This time, Harry's lips remained on his while his magic did it's work without words, and she felt warm long before the dampness left her skin.

"You know what we should do?" he asked suddenly. Harry was running her hands through her hair, the water having left it curlier than normal. "We should _dance."_

Harry snorted. " _No."_

"Why not?"

"We can't _dance_ here," she said defiantly. "It's - it's the Welborn's _pool._ How are we supposed to _dance?"_

"Of course you can dance here," he said, reaching for her and twirling her for effect. "You can dance _anywhere._ You don't need music to dance."

"It's more than the place or the lack of music," she said, pulling away from him. "It's the fact that I just _can't dance._ Like at all. Like not even a little bit. You saw me at the Yule Ball. It was a _disaster._ "

"The only problem with the Yule Ball was you had the wrong partner," he said, rolling his eyes. "I can lead you, Potter. I'm quite good at it."

Harry stared back at him, wrapping her arms around herself. Swimming was one thing. _Dancing_ was entirely another.

"Come on, _Potter,"_ he said, extending a hand towards her. "My biggest regret is that we didn't get to dance together at the Yule Ball-"

" _That's_ your biggest regret? Out of all the things that you've done? _Dancing?_ "

" _Harriet."_

" _Fine,"_ she said, huffing and stomping up to him in a way that was _completely_ unlady like. "But the only thing I'm worse at than swimming is _dancing."_

George rolled his eyes, pulling her towards him, and placing a hand on the small of her back; the other intertwining itself with hers while she hesitantly rested her other hand on his shoulder. Their close contact was making her blush. She had been practically _mauling_ him earlier on the pool chair while he was shirtless. Why was this so much harder?

He moved them in place, swaying a bit, before he began to move his feet in a rhythm Harry was unsure of, but found herself following easily.

"You know how to dance," said Harry, surprised.

"I _am_ a pureblood," he said in such a posh tone that she was reminded of Malfoy.

Harry giggled, feeling suddenly at ease. She rested her head on his chest, thinking fleetingly how his chin rested just at the top of her head.

"I didn't know it could be like this," she said suddenly.

"Dancing?"

 _Love,_ she thought, but she didn't answer.


	7. Day 7

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait on this chapter! Please, please don't forget to review. I can't tell you how much it keeps me going!**

 **You can follow me on tumblr if you'd like as alrightginger! I tend to post snippets, answer questions, and will scream back at you if you scream at me.**

 **Chapter Seven**

 **Or**

 **Higher Now Than Ever Before**

 **Day Seven:**

It was nearly one in the morning when Harriet and George arrived back to the Dursleys, careful to make sure that her relatives were tucked away in their bedrooms, and the sound of their snores filling the air. Harry hadn't expected them to lay awake concerned over their niece who never came back home, but she didn't want them to interrupt what was certainly turning out to be a heated snog fest that was heading to her bedroom.

She was certain her aunt would have more than a few words to say about _that_ if she were awake.

It had started with a _look._

Something as simple as Harriet's emerald eyes finding George's hazel and lingering as she combed her fingers through her curly mass of tangled hair as they walked back to the Dursleys. From there it progressed into a grin. Broad and mischievous was George. Somehow lopsided and face splitting at once. Soft and shy from Harry as it tugged at the corners of her mouth, her teeth finding her bottom lip to stop it from nearly splitting her face.

The ending, the catalyst, took place with the simple act of George doing something as tender as placing two fingers underneath her chin, tilting it upwards, and kissing her soft enough for Harry to feel flickering flames underneath her skin.

And then suddenly she didn't _want_ to be flickering or soft. She wanted to be fierce and aflame. She wanted to burn in her desire for him, taking everything down with her in the process.

Which is how she found herself with her back slammed against her aunt and uncle's door, fumbling to unlock the handle as George's lips trailed lower to the jutting of her collarbone that was exposed, causing her to hiss and her back to arch.

Her whole body was aching by the time she managed to get the door open, nearly toppling over, and the backs of her heels finding the stairs, climbing up them backwards in a way that wasn't quite as graceful as Ginger Rogers as she stumbled. She would have nearly fallen if it weren't for the hand snaked tightly around her waist.

So secure around her that she felt as if she would never hit solid ground.

Kissing George Weasley was like a baptism. As though she had submerged herself in him, falling and sinking like that day in the pool until he brought her up for air, giving her his breath and filling her lungs. As though she were standing in the middle of some sort of holy ground, and Harriet herself stood before him as a sacrifice, willing to give him everything she had for the breath that left his lips and became hers.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered, his lips never fully leaving hers and catching her whimper and turning it into a groan. "Fucking gorgeous."

Time seemed to have trickled, moving forward so quickly that Harry didn't notice that they had reached her bedroom until moonlight spilled over them from her open window; catching the red of George's hair and making it look softer, rather like a sunset instead of it's normal fiery hues. Fists clenching into the material of his shirt, she took a step back to look at him. His eyes were darkened, making it impossible to spot the golden bits in his hazel eyes, but Harry felt rather golden herself with the way he was looking at her.

As though _he_ were the seeker and she was his snitch.

Her heart was certainly fluttering as rapidly as a the wings of a snitch as his fingers grazed her waist slightly and, for once in her life, she came willingly. Allowing herself to be caught.

His hands tightened on her hips, and whether it was to steady her or keep her secured and grounded right in front of him, she wasn't sure, but she felt as though she would float away if not for it.

As though he was her only achor.

"Remember back at the pool when you promised not to let me go?" She stepped slowly away from him, the bottoms of her bare feet creaking softly across the floorboards as she backed towards her unmade bed. She grabbed him by the hand, lacing her fingers through his as she led him. He followed willingly. "I need you to make me the same sort of promise right now."

His feet followed hers in a perfect rhythm until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. "To not let you go?"

"To not let me go until I'm ready."

"How will I know that you'll come back to me? If I do let you go, that is."

"Well there's the fun," she said, grinning. "If I don't come back, you'll get to catch me."

"Hmm," he hummed. "I've chased after you for this long. I suppose I could go for a few more rounds."

She looked up at him, bouncing almost nervously on the balls of her feet, and tilting her head slightly.

"You've given me so much these past few days," she said quietly. "More than I could have ever asked for. And I was just - well, I wanted to give you something in return. Something I can't give to anyone else. Something I don't _want_ to give to anyone else."

It was dark, but there, in the moon lit bedroom, she was certain she saw George swallow nervously, watching the bobbing of his Adam's apple with curious eyes and wondering what it would be like to place her lips on it. To kiss every inch of him, every freckle, every line that curved upwards in his features when he smiled would surely be an adventure unlike one she'd ever experienced.

"Are you - are you _sure?"_

She nodded, feeling impossibly brave and incredibly like a girl in the beginning stages of love. Crazy, foolish, a bit stupid.

"Though," she said, "I've never actually _done_ anything before."

"We don't have to do anything right now," he said. He was honest and his voice made her eyes flutter momentarily. "Not if you're not ready."

"I am," she assured him, looking at him through her lashes. "I'm perfectly ready. After all, my instincts have never failed me before. Though they've led me some dangerous places." She paused before continuing. Not really sure if this was the proper time to ask something of this nature, but needing to know nonetheless. "Have you ever…"

"Once," he finished for her when she trailed off lamely. "Just once before."

"With Katie?" Her voice held no malice, no accusation. Just a simple question that needed an answer.

"Yes," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "It was before I knew I liked you. Before I even knew I had a chance. Are you disappointed?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not at all."

"I wished it had been you though." He paused, looking rather shy. " But now that I've got you here, I'm not quite sure how to start."

"Well, I'd think _I'd_ start by placing a kiss on your jawline," she said, raising up on her bare tiptoes to kiss the freckle scattered skin, feeling his breath hitch as her lips lingered, drifting towards his ear. "Then I'd take my hands just like this," she said, sliding her still wrinkled fingers under the material of his shirt, feeling the tightness of his skin from underneath as she drug her nails upwards towards his chest, "and I'd stop just _here_ to feel the beating of your heart."

His skin had gotten hot, just as her own had moments ago, and she had to wonder - there as she trailed kisses down his arched neck, stopping at his Adam's apple as she had promised herself - if she had engulfed him in her flames. He was positively on fire, but Harriet's hand remained steady on his chest, being made of fire herself and able to withstand it, and feeling the rapid rhythm of George's heart fluttering against her fingertips.

If she curled her hand just so, she could reach in and grab it with the way he was melting under her touch. Though she suspected he would hand it right over if she simply asked.

"What would you do next?" His voice sounded a bit raspy. Almost pained. And it sent a thrill down Harriet's spine to know that _she_ was the one driving him towards insanity.

"Next," she said, lifting his shirt slowly, "I'd get rid of _this."_

She had never undressed a man before, her hands trembling as she tugged the cotton material over his head, but finding that they grew steady as she successfully watched it hit the floor.

This was perhaps the bravest thing she had ever attempted, she thought.

"I was never too fond of that shirt anyway," he said, making her laugh.

He was incredibly fit and, though she had just spent a good portion of the night swimming with him in nothing but his boxers, she still found herself admiring him, giving into the temptation to allow her hands to drift towards his biceps. She hadn't noticed the way a boy - a _man -_ was shaped and molded before him. The way muscles could sculpt a person. Not properly at least.

"Your move," she said, leaning in so that their lips were barely brushing, his head tilted to the side and his lips parted ever so slightly so that her words bounced against them.

It was a game unlike any she had ever played before with rules that seemed to be made up as they went along. A kiss here, a touch there. See who could burn the other with their fire. She had played her move first, and George, who was a fast learner, closed the small gap between them, catching his name in his own mouth and trailed his fingers up her ribcage, past the curve of her breast and hooked two fingers underneath the strap of her sundress that rested on her shoulder.

Wordlessly, he tugged it downward, the elastic stretching easily so that Harriet was able to slip her arm out of it, the other following suit as George bunched the dress down her torso, exposing her still slightly soaked bra, stopping at her ribcage where it fell to the ground on its own accord. His hands resting underneath the wire of her bra, his fingers broad and spread out, gripped her almost roughly, pulling her in impossibly closer so that her back arched, his calloused thumbs sliding along the prickling of her skin.

A million kisses seemed to pass between them. All hungry and fierce. All puffs of shallow breath and teeth against bottom lips. All seemingly the first and treated like the last.

And there, in the passing of breathes between their tightly pressed lips rested everything good in a world than had often dealt Harriet nothing but cruelties.

A world of possibilities were between their lips, and she could die happily by simply kissing George Weasley. Possibly produce a patronus for the rest of her seemingly short life on just this memory alone. And yet a more selfish, primal part of her wanted more. Wanted more than just _good_ within this moment. Wanting to take the happiest she had ever felt and drag it towards the edge of madness. For weren't happiness and madness meant to go together. She could feel it, there in her core. That aching, burning sensation. The source of her fire laying just between her legs where no one else had ever been.

A step forward was all in took for George to push her over the that edge, allowing her back to hit the mattress, and arching as he slid a hand underneath to lift her further up, never once taking his lips from her own. Her hips tilted upwards into his during their movement, a thrill shivering down her spine at the stiffness that she was met with along with the groan that left his mouth and vibrated into her own.

"God _dammit,_ Potter," he hissed, pressing his hips back down against hers.

Every touch, every movement was an experiment. An exploration of the other. Hips tilting to see how they molded together. Lips grazing to see what each other's skin tasted like. Hands brushing jawlines, shoulders, thighs.

"My heart is pounding," she said, each beat reaffirming that she was alive and within this moment.

It was so loud, thundering in her ears like a drum, that she wondered how he could not hear it.

How he couldn't possibly be deaf from it.

As if to prove her point - as if to to make him every bit as _mad_ as her - she unhooked her bra, tossing it carelessly off the side of the bed before grabbing the hand cupping her face, and placing it over her left breast. Feeling it squeeze her with more confidence than it held just hours before. Feeling the brushing of Quidditch calloused thumb over hardened nipple.

"God, Potter," he groaned. His voice seemed to be lodged somewhere in his throat. Deep and low as it was. "You weren't kidding, were you?"

"I like it when you call me Potter," she said, though her voice sounded like a whine to her own ears.

"I like _you,"_ he said, making her heart flutter. "I like you so, so much."

It wasn't a great confession of love.

Nowhere near as poetic or eloquent as the words in her mother's old books.

But in his words there was something like a promise. Something that told her it was okay to let go. To jump without looking. To _feel._ At least just this once.

"Are you certain?" he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers. She nodded, her eyes rolled back in her head, not trusting herself to speak, and then felt his thumbs hitch onto her knickers. Dragging them downward. Leaving her completely bare before him in a way that was far more symbolic than the day she had dropped her towel to her feet. Felt him discard of his bottoms, and the prodding at the warmth between her legs. Felt the pounding of her heart all over and realized it was joined by his own. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She believed him.

And then she let go.


	8. Day 8

**A/N: A few things. First, i know this chapter is much shorter compared to others, but I felt like it added more to the telling of the story by having this moment of just the two of them. The next few chapters are going to be heavily filled with content and conflict and so this is serving as sort of an interlude.**

 **Also, this story has been nominated for the Shrieking Shack Society's honorary Marauder award. I'm over the moon about it, and if you would like to vote for LIAF you can find the link on my tumblr (alrightginger over there too). If you can find it, send me an ask to reblog it because I'm aware my tumblr is a mess lol.**

 **And, as always, please review!**

 **Chapter Eight**

 **Or**

 **And Give Him All of My Love**

 **Day Eight:**

If Harriet held still long enough - holding her breath and allowing her fingers to settle, tangling themselves in the fiery locks of George's hair - she was nearly certain that she could feel the beating of his heart thumping against her leg in the same rhythmic pattern as her own.

Their pulse points seemingly finding each other and mimicking each other in a natural sort of way.

They were hidden in Petunia's garden, laying underneath the shade of a tree that still did little to protect them from the humidity. The summer sun sitting high in the sky like a Ferris wheel, causing her cheeks to redden from the heat. A drop of sweat ran down her lips and she licked it away, the salty taste lingering slightly, and causing her nose to wrinkle.

But Harriet was happy.

For the first time in her life at the Dursley's home she was irrevocably, incandescently happy.

She felt as though she had been flying since she and George had gotten together, floating since _last night,_ and a million tiny butterflies inside of her stomach fluttered, making her feel as though she was constantly walking on air.

"What are you thinking?" asked George.

He was sprawled out on her lap, lazily draping an arm across her legs, the other supporting his head as he flipped himself around. He was teetering the line that would draw him into sleep if he tripped, and Harry wondered if she should allow him to drift, or, perhaps, draw him back out for a bit of fun.

"Hmm," she hummed, leaning against the tree and looking upwards. The leaves looked nearly scorched, taking the brunt of the heat as they were. There hadn't been a proper rain since she'd been back, and it was looking as though there wouldn't be for some time according to the blaring news report her aunt had on every morning. "Jane is so quiet, so reserved. She never asks for much of anything. She never lets herself fully _want_ anything. I guess I was just thinking about how much I sort of relate to that. Have related to that."

"She wants Mr. Bingley," retorted George, opening his eyes and gazing up at her. "She's just afraid to let herself show it."

The book was laying on the grass next to them, opened and placed face down on the exact page that Harriet had stopped reading aloud to him moments before.

"I suppose you're right."

"I always am," he grinned, a yawn slipping through his lips as he did so. "Besides, we aren't at the end yet. There's loads of time for her to show it."

"No," she agreed, "we aren't at the end just yet. We have miles to go before we're there."

"And plenty of days avoiding your aunt and uncle for reading."

Harry laughed, the sound of it starling a bird perched on her aunt's fence and causing it to flutter away. Even her laugh felt new, she thought. As though it was louder, bolder. Perhaps even brighter. As though it took up space here for once. No longer contained as she herself once was.

"I have to say, I'm rather surprised you're enjoying this book so much," she said, leaning back and stretching. "I didn't think _George Weasley_ would be one for reading, let alone _romance novels."_

" _Oi!"_ George protested, seeming a bit more away, and sitting upwards so that they were face to face now. He leanedin so she was even further pressed into the bark of the tree and they were nearly nose to nose. She could count his freckles, but instead she settled for crossing her eyes and watching them blur. "I'm plenty romantic, I'll have you know. And besides, the same could be said for you. I've hardly seen you with a book in your hand at Hogwarts. I didn't even know you _liked_ to read, and I drove myself mad last year trying to find the perfect Christmas gift for you."

"Hey! I'll have you know that I loved my new Quidditch gloves. Even if I didn't get to use them for very long afterwards. And, anyway, I've _told_ you," she huffed, feigning annoyance. "These books are needed here. _Merlin_ help me if Peeves discovered them. I'd never get them back."

"I _adore_ that poltergeist," said George, leaning in to press a quick kiss on her lips. "I adore you more though. I'd happily win back your books if something ever happened to them."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

It was easy to kiss him, she thought. There was no more distance between them, not even that of the space of a book, as she encircled her arms around his neck to draw him closer. Breathing him in, giving him all the air in her lungs, filling him up with all of her.

He was an eternity, she mused. Or rather, he was giving her an eternity. The thought of life outside of being the chosen one, a war brewing where she would have to play the end result, and a place in the world where she was - _could be -_ loved.

It was a wonderful thought.

It was a terrifying thought.

And she never let it go further than the corners of her mind.

"I -" The words were there, just on the tip of her tongue, pressed tightly against his own lips, but she swallowed them back down. "I'm so happy."

It wasn't a lie.

Though it wasn't the full truth.

Harriet wondered if there was a space between a truth and a lie. If there were, certainly that's where that thought would be placed.

"Are you still sore?" he asked, a hand gripping gently at her hip, his thumb tenderly rubbing over a mole that he now knew of.

"Not really."

Now _that_ was a lie, and he knew, she could tell, by the curve of his lips against hers. She was still sore. _Of course_ she was still sore. How could she not be? Her very core was tightly knotted with the way they had been last night. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart. But there was a pleasantness in the way that she ached. In a way that she never knew she _could_ ache before, in places that she didn't know she even had.

It was rather thrilling to feel such an ache that didn't affect her heart in a negative sort of way.

In a sort of way that kept it beating, even rapidly so, rather than feeling as though she had been gutted of it.

"Liar," he said, pulling away to place a kiss on the scar that marked her forehead. It was becoming a signature move of his, kissing her scar. And she could hear Ron calling her pathetic in the back of her mind as she swooned. "You can't lie to me, Potter. I've got you all figured out."

He nearly did, she thought. He seemed to know her just as well as maybe even Ron and Hermione. Maybe even better in particular ways as he had demonstrated the night before.

He seemed to know her very skin as though he had spent hours studying it. He knew the things to do to make her whine, to make her moan. He could simply graze his fingertips against her ribs and she would stretch, her back arching. She wanted to go the whole of her life with his fingertips prickling her skin.

"Been watching me, have you?"

"You have no idea."

And Harry probably _didn't_ if she were being perfectly honest. She had been so busy, so entirely focused, on other aspects of her life that she hardly had time to notice anyone watching her. Noticing her. She had to wonder how many passing glances had gone unseen. How many times he had purposely sought her out and she thought nothing of it.

 _It's hard to see what's in front of you while constantly looking over your shoulder,_ she thought almost sadly.

"How long?" she asked, not certain she could explain her query any further than those two words.

"I've known for nearly a year now," he said. "But honestly it's been longer than that. I've been _watching_ you for longer than I actually realized I was."

Harriet blinked. "How do you figure?"

"Well," he said, leaning back on the palms of his hands and thinking. It was a sight, to see him _actually_ thoughtful without the possibility of a prank being produced. The way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth became a thin line. It was like watching something that no one else had ever witnessed before. A side to him reserved for her. "I noticed your _change..._ for lack of better word when we picked you up for the World Cup. How tall you had gotten, how you seemed to have grown into yourself. The way you grinned at me when we got back to the Burrow after pranking your git of a cousin, _Merlin,_ I wondered what it would be like to kiss you."

Harry swallowed, trying to get her thumping heart back down her throat. "When did you know for sure though? That it was... _more?_ "

"When you knocked out Malfoy after that match where we both got banned," he grinned. "Fucking hell, it hit me harder than you hit that git."

"That was not my finest moment," sighed Harriet, though a half smile was tugging on her lips.

"He made a comment about your mum. I'm honestly a bit surprised you didn't curse him, but then abandoning your wand is a bit more your style, isn't it?"

"Hush," said Harry, though she couldn't help the small laugh escaping her lips. "When you grow up with a cousin like mine, you have to know how to defend yourself a bit."

"Honestly, I have half a mind to give your cousin a bit more than a sweet to cause his tongue to grow. Though, I have to admit, it was extremely hot to watch you slug Malfoy."

"You're ridiculous!"

She was belly laughing now, the thought of the game, Malfoy's bloody nose, and George's confession all tumbled into one confusing knot in her stomach that ached as she doubled over. George Weasley had her all twisted up in the best possible way.

"I was honestly never more proud of you than in that moment," he said through her laughter. "I almost wished you would have hit me afterwards."

"You're mad," she said, nearly squealing with laughter in a way that only he could make her do. " _Completely_ mad."

She stood, the pads of her bare feet itching against the blades of grass as clung to the tree in all her giggling.

"I'm not mad," he said, standing to his full height so she had to peer up at him, placing his hands on either side of her head as it rested against the oak tree. "I'm just your problem."

And he was, she thought, drawing him down for a kiss by tugging on his shirt. He was _hers._ Chaotically, madly, impossibly hers. But at the same time - in the back of her head, a million miles away, tucked away securely - he _was_ a problem. A resistance was building in her, rooting itself in the way George Weasley made her feel when he kissed her, and telling her that he would interfere with her place in the brewing war.

The sudden thought dawned on her that she ought to tell him. _Should_ tell him what he was involving himself in. But telling him, acknowledging it, would mean admitting to herself that their time would possibly be short. That _her_ time was possibly limited with everything.

"What's wrong?" asked George, pulling away after sensing her stillness.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Just an odd thought entered my mind, that's all."

George frowned. "Odd thought?"

 _That we could lose each other in all this madness,_ she thought.

"Hmm," she hummed instead. "I think I am still sore, that's all. My legs are feeling weak."

He seemed to buy it, rolling his eyes and grinning at her. He was too handsome, she thought. Certainly too handsome for her. Reaching up to thread her fingers into his hair, she smiled shyly at the way he leaned into her touch.

 _Push and pull, you and me,_ she thought to herself, _but always somehow in the same direction._

"I told you that you can't pull one over on me, Potter." His hand drifted down slowly, pulling slightly on the hem of her skirt before grabbing her and lifting her bridal style, causing her to nearly shriek. "I've got you all figured out."

"You're just my problem, eh?" she grinned, clinging tightly to his neck.

"More than you'll ever know."

He spun them, sitting so his back was against the tree this time and positioning her so she was sitting on his lap, his legs crossed underneath her.

"I still think you're mad," she said, grinning at him. "But I rather like it."

"How much time do we think we have left until your aunt discovers us out here?" he asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Probably another twenty minutes," she said. "But you're not shagging me out here by this tree. I still am quite sore."

"Fair enough. How about some Austen then?"

Harry regarded him, though not nearly in the same manner as she did the first time he asked her to read to him. This time she tried to memorize the way the golden bits stuck out in his hazel eyes and the way his lips curved into a half smile when she touched the corner of his mouth the her thumb, tracing it slightly. She was certain that one day she would need this image of him though she didn't know why or how.

She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling fully, certain she would split open from her happiness if she allowed herself. She wordlessly motioned for him to give her the book, letting her fingers linger slightly on his when he handed it over.

And then she cleared her throat.

And began to read.

" _He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began : 'In vain have I struggled…'"_


	9. Day 9

**A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry for the wait on this chapter, and on the other chapters for my other fics. Nothing is abandoned, and the next chapters for Shades, Eighth Impressions, and Straight and Narrow are all halfway done.**

 **I wanted to address something, because it's been bothering me even though I got the review months ago. I will be posting this same note with every new update, since I know I have different readers for different fics, so I apologize if you are one of my floaters and have already seen it.**

 **I got a rather rude review that said my works were hard to follow because of the time it takes to update, and that it's almost not worth it to have to reread everything when I do manage to update. I love each and every one of my readers, but I want to be clear that I have two kids and a family. My writing schedule and updates revolve around them entirely and I'm not willing to change that. If you follow me on tumblr, I can do my best to provide you with update schedules but with my son running around now and my daughter being involved in** **activities,** **things have been crazy! Thanks to each and every one of you that have been understanding about that! I know how hard it is to wait on a story to update...believe me! And I just want to be clear that I do not mind reviews asking me to return to a story so long as they are not rude!**

 **Thank you all for sticking with me! I** **appreciate** **you guys so much.**

 **Chapter Nine**

 **Or**

 **But He Talks Like a Gentlemen**

 **Day Nine:**

Harriet wasn't sure if nine days into dating someone was typical for a couple's first argument, but, it suffices to be said, Harriet and George were _not_ a normal couple.

Besides the fact that they both had magic vibrating through them, half of their relationship had been fake and half had turned very, _very_ real. All in the span of nine days.

And so, normal or not, the morning of George's ninth day at number four Privet Drive found the young couple on the brink of an argument over _Vernon Dursley_ of all people.

"I'm going to _murder_ you. Completely, totally, dismember you limb from limb, and then when people ask me where my boyfriend has gotten to, I'll ask them, ' _which bit do you mean!'_ "

"Come now, Potter. It's not _that_ bad."

"Not _that bad? Not that bad?_ This...this is _the worst_ possible thing you could have done. And you - you have done some crazy shit before, George Weasley. But never on this level."

"There's no possible way this could be worse than the time I accidentally caught your hair on fire with that firework last year."

"That was mendable! This - this is a disaster waiting to happen!"

Harriet wasn't sure if she as being dramatic or not. Possibly. She had never been one for dramatics before, and it wasn't something people often attributed to her personality traits. Not like her obliviousness. She knew about that one, because Hermione often pointed it out.

But she could think of no other way to react to the fact that George Weasley, her boyfriend as well as the person who was supposed to be looking out for her very own _wellbeing,_ had willingly invited the two of them to tag along to her uncle's company picnic for the afternoon.

"It's not a ' _disaster waiting to happen.'"_ George's air quotes around the words infuriated her even more, her eyes narrowing at them. "You're being dramatic."

So, apparently, she _was_ dramatic. She was probably too oblivious to know anyway, but the word - true or not - made her nearly scream with anger.

"I'm _not_ dramatic," she hissed through her bared teeth. "I'm _realistic._ We're going to go to this party, and - and _something_ is going to go wrong. Whether it's you playing a prank on one of Uncle Vernon's higher ups, or a misplaced nose bleed sweet, or - or -"

" _Or,"_ said George, cutting her off and stepping closer to her. He grabbed her hands, taking them in his own and squeezing them lightly before swinging them in and out just once. "Or we go to this party, we have a jolly good time pretending to be this insanely in love couple from a school for _troubled youth_ , and we embarrass the knickers off your uncle."

"You don't understand," said Harry. She was embarrassed at the way her bottom lip was trembling now, and she bit it if only to steady it for a moment. "If we embarrass Uncle Vernon in anyway, he'll- he'll…"

She trailed off, unwilling to voice or think about the possibilities of what Uncle Vernon would do if he was the slightest bit embarrassed in front of his own work mates. Could there be anything worse than bars on ones window or little to no food for a week?

"He'll what, Harriet?" pressed George, his brow dangerously furrowed in the way it did when he was angry. "What will he do to you?"

He was beginning to suspect things, she could tell. But how could he _not,_ living here as he had been. His eyes watched the way she walked _around_ her uncle instead of simply by him. The way her breath hitched and her head shot up whenever her aunt heaved a frustrated sigh. But, thankfully, it was easy to _distract_ his mind from wandering with his eyes thanks to her newly achieved girlfriend status.

"Nothing," she said, bouncing on her feet once. Twice. She wondered if he watched her enough to know that it was something that she did when she was nervous. "Nothing. I'm being silly, that's all. I mean, what _can_ he do? You're here, right?"

He seemed to accept her words, his face falling into the normal smile lines. The ones that would remain wrinkled when he grew old, and the thought of an older George Weasley caused her to reach out and cup the face of the younger one before her, the thumb of her left hand brushing the lines by his eye.

"Right. And trust me, Potter," he said, leaning into her touch. "Nothing is going to happen to you so long as I'm around."

* * *

If Voldemort didn't kill her, this company picnic surely would.

She wasn't even _there_ yet, but her scar might as well have been tingling, the way she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to prickle.

The only thing that kept her legs from jiggling with nerves were the glass serving dishes her aunt had piled on top of them. Her fingers, however, drummed against them rapidly.

She had never _been_ to a work event for her uncle.

She wasn't even sure that the people he worked with knew of her existence.

And if they did, what should she say? How should she act?

Somehow the only options coming to her were either gagging on her own tongue or shouting that she had been forced to live under some stairs for a majority of her life.

"You alright?" George asked, giving her a sideways glance.

He had opted to drive them separately, or, more accurately, insisted that they couldn't all possibly fit inside Vernon's car together without an extension charm placed on it.

Vernon had turned positively purple from either rage at George's cheek or the sheer mention of magic.

Likely both, Harriet thought.

"No, I'm not," Harriet snapped. "I said I didn't want to do this."

"You didn't even look this nervous when you faced that Horntail during the second task."

"You don't know that. You didn't see me in the tent before I had to walk out."

"Fair enough," grinned George. "Though I saw you on your broom and then with a golden egg in your hands the next second. Even a bit singed, you looked less stressed out than you do now."

"I was nearly about to throw up then, and I'm about to throw up now."

"Ugh, don't do that," said George, scrunching his nose. "I can't handle puke."

"You have a whole product line based on puking!"

"That doesn't mean that I like it!"

"Oh god," groaned Harriet. They were pulling into Grunnings now, following her uncle's car in front of them that lead down the path to the back garden. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to puke."

" _Harriet!"_

"Don't _Harriet_ me!"

"You're being dramatic again," said George, though he rolled down the windows for good measure.

Harriet stuck her head out slightly, practically gulping in the fresh air. It was lovely day. Sunny and bright with a breeze that took the edge off the humidity. Far too pretty of a day to spend at _Grunnings._

"You stay by my side the _whole time,"_ ordered Harriet, turning to look at him and pushing her windswept hair out of her face. "Within fingertips length. Not a bit farther."

"I'm not going to abandon you here. Don't worry," said George. He parked his car next to Vernon's. Apparently _too_ close to Vernon's based on the look Petunia gave, and the careful way in which she opened her door.

"Oh, I'm not worried about you abandoning me. I'm more concerned about whatever mischief you're going to get into. I need you close so I can stop it."

Harry's hands stuck to the leather of her seat, sticking from a mixture of sweaty palms and the inability to remember how to open a simple door.

She shouldn't be here.

Everything within her was screaming to turn the car around and go back home.

This was dangerous territory for her. It was far easier to step out of line here, at Grunnings, than was possible in the walls of her cupboard under the stairs, or her bedroom which drew the lines so nicely once upon a time with bars.

"Darling," said George, sensing her tension. Harriet closed her eyes, clinging to the way he said that word. _Darling._ As if she were something so dear and beloved. "Everything's going to be fine, okay?"

"Okay," said Harriet, opening her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I solemnly swear to you, no magical mischief will take place tonight."

"You promise?"

"On my life."

Harriet breathed in again, the air still feeling slightly suffocating. "Alright."

"Alright then," he said, grinning at her with affection. "Let me get the door for you."

* * *

The crowd at the Grunnings company picnic was everything Harriet had thought it would be.

Various forms of Vernon Dursley's in all shapes and sizes, mingling here and there with cookie cutter husbands and wives hanging by their side like a featured trophies.

They were all dressed exactly how Harriet's aunt and uncle were, in their very best, cleaned pressed clothes as if they were attending a Sunday morning service. All of them wearing the same snide, slightly bored expression, nodding occasionally to whatever the _other_ Vernon Dursley was saying to them, and then offering their - _far superior_ \- insight and opinion.

Harriet had never heard her uncle say anything remotely _nice_ about his co-workers. Always referring to them as slightly dim-witted, and barely capable of doing the jobs that he oversaw.

Now she had to wonder how much her uncle actually like _himself,_ for all she could see was a crowd full of the most _Dursley-ish_ people imaginable.

It made her feel slightly ill.

All of this would be at least _slightly_ bearable had Harriet been able to grab a plate of actual _food,_ but the picnic, if one could call it that, was nothing more than a catered event with servers passing around crab cakes for appetizers and glasses full of wine that seemed to be going like mad.

Harriet had never felt so out of place in her life.

She had more than enough crab cakes to last for a while. So much so that they were starting to make her already nervous stomach turn. She had just spotted the _actual_ food table towards the back of the crowd where people had left their unattended dishes and began quickly walking towards it when she was cut off by a man tall enough to block the sun from Harry's eyes, causing her to peer up.

"You're Vernon's niece aren't you?" said the man, not bothering to actually introduce himself properly.

Harriet felt her annoyance grow. Not only had he cut her off on her way to the table that held the actual _food_ that a picnic should provide after she was certain that she wasn't going to be able to take another appetizer being held underneath her nose, but he didn't even bother to hide the way his eyes took her in upward and downward. Harriet also did nothing to hide the tugging of her lips in a downward angle or the raising of her eyebrows.

She could also play the blunt game, if that was what it took to get her through this awful picnic.

"Yes," she said, simply. She knew her tone did nothing to mask that she found him rather rude. And a bit stupid. "Though I normally go by my name. Which is Harriet, by the way."

"Ah, yes, that's right. _Harriet._ I've never seen you attend one of these events before," continued the _still_ nameless man. "I was beginning to wonder if Vernon had made you up."

"Oh no. Not at all. I'm quite real, unfortunately."

Harriet was growing increasingly aware that George had wandered off, against their agreement. He was by the lake, inspecting the mechanics of a row boat which Harriet had found endearing and rather like his father just moments before.

Now she wished she herself were at least legally able to break their non-magical agreement and _accio_ him straight across the lawn.

No, she thought. She could handle herself. She wouldn't let some tall bloke intimidate her or keep her away from the food table.

"Where do you attend school then?"

He asked the question in a way that was laced in sugar and meant to mask his true intention but fell short.

He was snooping, taking a page from her aunt Petunia's book and attempting to search her for information but _why_ and why _her_ she wasn't entirely sure.

"St. Anne's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Youths," deadpanned Harry. She had rehearsed the school's title in her head on the drive over, a co-ed school nearby, sure somehow she would need it.

"That's right, that's right," said the man, nodding his head as though he just remembered. Harriet was certain he just wanted it admitted aloud. "Vernon did mention that once or twice."

"Yes, he's rather proud of my education."

"How'd you end up in a school like that? If you don't mind me asking."

"Oh, you know," said Harriet, racking her mind desperately.

 _This_ she hadn't rehearsed.

She really ought to have known better, ought to have come up with _something_ beforehand. To go to a reform school - however fake that may actually _be -_ she would need a reason to be sent to it in the first place. This was the problem with her. Daring, heroic deeds, she could wing. Actually having to come up with a logical explanation for something...that she sorely lacked in.

"Harriet, you have _got_ to let me take you out on that boat," said an overly excited voice from behind her. _Perfect timing,_ thought Harriet. If anyone could come up with a quick witted lie on the spot, George Weasley could.

"Admiring my row boat, are you?" said the man, appearing not to be at all bothered with the interruption. Harriet suspected it had something to do with George's admiration of his boat stroking the man's ego. "Made her myself. She's quite dependable, if I do say so myself."

George's eyes brightened with mirth at the absolute _posh-ness_ the man's tone was vibrating. Oh, he was George's favorite type of prey, Harriet knew.

She ought to call him off, but couldn't quite find the reins to do so.

"Oh, yes sir," said George, straightening himself up and mimicking a thicker, finer accent than Harriet had ever heard him do before. "It's quite the looker. Of course, I can only take your word on how dependable of a boat she is. Having never actually taken her out myself. But, I have to admit, she doesn't look as sturdy as some other boats I've come across."

"Is that so?" questioned the man, clearing his throat loudly.

"Don't get me wrong," said George. "It's an extremely beautiful boat. I'm just not sure how well she would hold up against a giant squid in the middle of a lake, you know? These are things to consider, after all."

" _A giant squid?"_

"Oh, yes," said George, nodding his head seriously. "You don't want to be caught out in the middle of the water with a boat that a squid is going to just... _snap_ right in half. That would be rotten luck."

"Especially if you can't swim," added Harriet, just as serious.

"Great point, darling," said George, grinning down at her. "That would be the absolute worst luck to have. Luckily for you, my love, your swim lessons are going, well, _swimmingly."_

"You don't know how to swim?" asked the man, looking as though this was the sanest bit of information to address.

"No," said Harriet. "My aunt and uncle paid for my cousin to attend swim lessons as a child, but not for me."

"Forgive me," said George, practically glowing in between all the chaos. "I do believe I rudely interrupted whatever conversation you guys were just having."

"Oh, yes," said Harriet, happily. "We were discussing our school, and how I ended up there. I was just about to tell him the story, but now that you're here why don't _you_ tell the story? It is one of your favorites of course."

Harriet really had to hand it to George.

He didn't miss a beat, nor did he let any sort of confusion flicker across his eyes as he clasped his hands together, as though he were about to entertain a large crowd with the great story of how Harriet Potter ended up in a school for _troubled youths._

Malfoy would piss himself, Harriet thought.

"Ah, yes," said George, turning fully towards the man who was giving him a weary look. Harriet saw that look several times when it came to the Weasley twins. "You're going to love this story. Absolutely _love_ it. But we've got to start properly. A great beginning is needed for a great story such as this. You see, it wasn't one particular thing that caused Harriet to end up in a school like ours. No, a life of crime was always courting her. Always calling to her. It started with nicking things here and there -"

"Stealing?" clarified the man.

"Oh, yes. Harriet's always been a bit of a thief. She once broke into a teacher's supply closet after hours, and took some of his chemicals."

"Whatever for?" asked the man, shocked.

"Probably for drugs or to just set fire to odd things. Right, love?"

"Yep," said Harriet, impressed with how very _muggle_ George was making everything sound. "One of those things probably."

"Afterwards she stole my heart," said George, giving her a very love sick look the nearly made her lose her composure.

"I think you're timeline has gone a bit wonky," said Harriet. "You weren't even on my radar during my thieving days."

"And then, of course, she moved vandalizing," continued George, ignoring Harry "That one was a hard habit to kick, even once she started attending our school. She once damaged a treasured tree on our campus with a _car_ of all things."

" _A car?"_

"Yep, just drove it straight into the thing," said George, making a crashing motion with his hands.

"My word-"

"But I think the last straw for Harriet's aunt and uncle was the time that she managed to set a snake loose on her cousin during a trip to the zoo."

" _A snake?"_ sputtered the man, his voice raising an octave. "From the _zoo?"_

"Oh yes," said George, looking impressed. "A _python,_ more specifically _._ She's yet to tell me about that one, which would come in handy later on."

"How on earth would that ever come in handy?" asked the man, looking as though he had the breath knocked from him.

"Oh," said George, looking the man dead in the eye. "Because I'm planning on becoming an amateur magician after school. And being able to release a live animal from behind a thick sheet of glass would be a _hit."_

They had broken the man.

Absolutely shattered him.

Harriet was almost completely certain they had, the way he was staring back at them both, his lips moving but no sound following.

How many more people could they completely take down together?

"It was lovely meeting you," said Harriet, smiling kindly at the man as though she weren't a thieving, vandalizing, snake charming lunatic. "It's really a lovely day for a catered company picnic, isn't it?"

She sided stepped around the man, grabbing George by the hand and waiting until they were out of earshot before bursting into giggles.

The sun was setting, casting everything in a pinkish tint, and Harriet found herself standing by the lake, away from the crowd of Dursley-ish people. A squidless lake which just made her tear up with laughter even more.

"That was _awful,"_ said Harriet, though she was still laughing. "Completely awful! That poor man. I don't even know his name, and we totally sent him into a shock."

"He had it coming," said George, leaning against a nearby tree. "The way he was looking at you before I managed to work my way back over there. He was being as nosey as your aunt, looking for a story. All we did was give him one."

"I'm not denying it," said Harriet, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But still...we were pretty awful."

"I don't know. That was pretty tame for me."

Harriet was silent for a moment, looking into the rippling of the water and wondering if the setting sun made her glow as much as it did the lake.

The summer had started for her with water, she thought. She had doused herself in it, becoming drenched and soaked and wrinkled from it. And then George had come along, pulling her towards the surface and causing her to breathe in the first few bits of new life.

That was how she felt these days.

With George.

New.

"There was one thing you didn't mention back there," said Harriet, bending down to stroke her fingertips.

"What's that?"

"How did you end up in a school for troubled youths?"

"Oh, easy," said George, smirking and skipping a rock across the lake. "I flooded a school corridor."

* * *

They had hardly opened the door to her bedroom - laughing and clinging to one another the whole way - when Harry was startled by a rapid tapping noise.

There was an owl at her window.

A tawny, royal looking thing, pecking away with a sense of urgency.

It didn't matter how long she'd been a witch, - or at least how long she had been _aware_ of being a witch - the sight of an owl outside her window still amazed her.

"Oh fuck," groaned George, running over to open the window. The owl flew in, landing on Harriet's nightstand and out stretching his leg towards George. "This is our owl. Mine and Fred's, that is."

"You have an owl now?" asked Harriet, offering the now settled bird a treat.

"Yes, we have several. Mostly for delivery purposes," said George. His eyes were skimming the page quickly, a growing look of concern forming in his features. "This one is our personal one we use for communication."

"Deliveries? Communication? For what?"

None of this made sense to her, but Harriet knew George better than to expect an outright answer.

At least not just yet.

"Something's gone wrong," said George, vaguely, proving her right. "Fred needs my help. I think I'm going to have to leave for a few hours."

"Oh," said Harriet, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Of course, I mean, if there's trouble...of course you have to go."

"I'm sorry." George frowned, pocketing the letter. The look of concern in his eyes shifted towards Harriet. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He's your brother. You've got to go, right?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "You'll be okay? Here...with them?"

"I've handled them for years now on my own," said Harriet, trying and surely failing to sound cocky and sure of herself. "I can handle one night."

George looked down at her, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just don't like leaving you here alone."

"You won't be gone long. Besides, they aren't even back yet. We left long before they did. I'll likely go to bed before they even make it back home, and you'll be back in the morning before they even know you've been gone."

"Yeah," said George, visibly relaxing at her words. "I suppose you're right."

"I always am."

"Cheeky thing, aren't you?" teased George, leaning down to place a kiss on her lightning shaped scar.

"Be careful, yeah?"

"I was just about to say the same thing to you."

"We're probably the two people that need to hear those words the most, but also the two mostly likely not to listen," laughed Harriet.

"You're probably right," said George, also laughing. "Just don't get into any sort of trouble without me then."

"Deal. You do the same."

"Deal," he agreed. "I guess I ought to go now."

"Tell Fred I said hello. I -" _I love you,_ she wanted to say, but couldn't figure out quite how. She could shag the bloke, but couldn't figure out how to get those few words out. So instead she settled for, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he said, bending down to give her one last kiss before disappearing with a loud _crack!_

Harriet stumbled backwards, still feeling the curve of George's lips against her own and yet finding herself entirely alone.

It was funny, she thought. Days ago, she would have given anything for him to have to pack up and leave for some sort of emergency. Thrilled at the thought even. Not wanting him to have any sort of clue to how she lived her summer's here at the Dursleys.

But now…

Now she was lonely for the first time all summer.

She sighed.

It would only be for the night, most likely. She could handle that. But her bed seemed entirely too big for her, she thought, glancing over at it. And her Jane Austen novel on her nightstand seemed too big of a world for her to enter alone, for once.

She was pathetic, she thought. Absolutely, completely, totally, _pathetic._

But she didn't have much time to ponder of the peculiarities of her pathetic-ness, for a moment later Harriet heard the front door open with such force that she momentarily thought someone had forced their way in.

" _Harriet Potter!"_ came the booming sound of not a burglar's voice, but her uncle's. " _Get down here this instant!"_

"What on earth…" Harriet mumbled, working her way down the stairs, and finding an irate looking Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia standing at the bottom of them. "What's going on? What's happened?"

"Thievery, vandalism, _the snake incident,"_ boomed Uncle Vernon, his face purple. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

"It was just a bit of fun!" cried Harriet, though she knew her aunt and uncle well enough to know that _a bit of fun_ was just as off limits as magic.

"A bit of fun?" repeated Vernon. "You think it's just a bit of _fun_ to tell my _CEO_ that I'm harboring some sort of criminal in my house?"

Harriet's stomach dropped at the word _CEO._

So _that_ was the man she had been talking to earlier this evening.

But the fear did nothing to stop her temper from flaring.

"Isn't that what you tell everyone else though?" shouted Harry, fists clenched. "That I'm just some sort of... _incurably, insane teenage girl!"_

"When you are at an event my workplace is hosting, you are representing _me_ ," roared Vernon. "Anything you say and anything you do, I get full responsibility for!"

"Excuse me if my manners are out of practice when it comes to family outings," countered Harriet. "I've hardly been on them, you see. Not since the _snake incident_ at least!"

"You have no idea what you've just done, so you? No sort of remorse at all," spoke Aunt Petunia finally. She was pink in the face, her eyes narrowed. "You could have cost Vernon his _job._ Our very livelihood."

"All I did was give a very rude, nosey man what he was looking for. _A story,"_ spat Harriet. "A story which you've been telling them anyway!"

"Don't you take that tone with me!" shouted her aunt, jabbing a bony finger in her direction. "I can't believe you! After everything we've done for you!"

"Excuse me, I completely forgot to be thankful for the bars on my window or spending days at a time _starving_ as punishment at the Grunning's picnic! I'll take that into consideration for the next time!"

" _Don't speak to your aunt in that tone, girl!"_ Vernon roared, banging his fist against the stairway wall.

Harriet wasn't sure exactly what happened at first. One moment she heard the echoings of her uncle's fist against the wall, and then the next she was struck in the head by something incredibly hard, a white hot pain rippling down her neck, the force of it causing her to fall down the remaining steps.

It took a moment, as these things always do, for time to catch up with Harriet's mind.

And when it did, it was almost as if she were outside of her own body, floating just above it and watching as she was struck in the head by a picture of her smug, beaming cousin.

Watching as her knees gave way under the giant portrait and she stumbled down the remaining stairs.

Watching as her ankle twisted, swelled, and started to bruise.

And watching as the realization crossed over her own features that never in all her years with her aunt and uncle had she ever suffered physically from their hand. And, though it was unintentional, her uncle's anger and finally gotten the better of him, harming her in the process.


End file.
